Shielded
by LifeBringsMeOnlyTears
Summary: I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Cyclops.
1. Chapter One

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

 **Author's Note:** There is just something about a mourning Scott Summers that pulls at my heartstrings. This is a story focused on Eleanor, a woman who in her own right acknowledges that she's a bit overweight and wants to change that. This is her journey, so the story focuses a great deal on character development and examining how she finds her way out of her shell – again. Set almost two years after the end of X-Men 2: X-Men United, this story follows the X-Men as they continue to heal and recover from their losses and the changes caused by The Blackout.

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter One~**_

It had been five and a half years, give or take a few weeks, since I had last been inside of the magnificent Mansion. The last visit had been during Christmas vacation, when the Professor had asked for my assistance in rectifying a mess in his office and his ledger books. I had stayed in the guest wing with other visitors, shared meals with old friends and strangers, and spent Christmas Eve mostly alone in the messy main office of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children.

Though my name had been on the invitation list for every event since, I hadn't planned on returning. The School held too many memories for me, both good and bad, for me to have ever considered taking any of the positions that I had been offered over the years. Neither teaching nor bookkeeping nor merely an informal position as the School's sole secretary had seemed like the right fit.

But, it was now home.

I pulled on a loose sweater, the fabric baggy around my midsection and sides, and slipped out of the large suite that was my new home. Faculty, even those considered to be adjunct faculty, were housed in the spacious suites that were spread across the dormitories in the Institute. Mine, I had been grateful to discover, was at the end of a mostly-empty corridor. Many of the nearby rooms were still undergoing renovations, so neighbors were unlikely for several months.

The corridors were familiar, and I found myself dragging my fingers across the wallpaper in fond memory as I slipped quietly down the hall. A small group of teenaged girls burst out of one of the shared girls' bathrooms and I paused in my tracks to watch them disappear around the bend. The students, as I'd discovered, paid little attention to a newcomer such as myself. I was another face, another name, that most probably wouldn't even remember.

Like a member of the cleaning or cook staff, I was mostly invisible.

Since it suited me, I relaxed my shoulders slightly and continued my trek down the hall. The back set of stairs that led into the informal den was vacant, but the den itself was quite active for midafternoon on a Saturday. A few students cast curious glances in my direction before they went back to whatever they were doing, and I focused on where my sneakers were heading as I continued along my way.

"Ah, Eleanor. I did hope that you would consider joining us for a late lunch today. Please, do have a seat."

In all honesty, I had forgotten about the Professor's invitation to a staff lunch. I had merely hoped to sneak down, find some food in the kitchen, and then get back to my room so that I could finally finish unpacking. My body tensed under the multitude of curious looks from the other staff members, and I glanced around the long dining table only briefly before I slid into the only empty chair at the end next to a man I did not recognize.

I zoned out for the first five minutes of the lunch before I realized that Charles Xavier was making introductions. He cleared his throat, rather loudly, and I noticed his gaze resting on me. "I'm sorry," I murmured, clearing my throat somewhat loudly. "I guess I may have zoned out for a moment or two. What did I miss?"

"I presume that you've already decided on your schedule, my dear?"

"Yep. Uh, yes, I have." I found myself wishing that I had brought down something to keep my hands busy. The plate of food in front of me was appealing, but I found myself unable to really eat with so many people that seemed to be _looking_ straight at me. So, I twirled my fork around a few times before I sat it down and folded my hands in my lap. "I am going to keep regular office hours every weekday from eight until four, depending on my schedule. Monday and Tuesday I will be available as adjunct for either Mathematics, Science, or possibly Literature. I can assist with proctoring, grading, or looking after classes while an instructor attends to other duties."

I took a deep breath and flushed when I realized that they cleared expected me to have more to say. "Uh." I found myself wishing that I hadn't braided my long brown hair back so that I could hide behind the curtain it created, and instead glanced down at my hereto untouched plate briefly. "I am going to be handling the bookkeeping as well as recruitment and the like. Furthermore, I plan to help increase our fundraising so that we are less reliant upon the Professor's deep pockets."

"And the X-Men?"

Though I had known him for years, it always made me feel awkward to try to look Scott Summers in the eye. He wore ruby-colored sunglasses to prevent his optic blasts from constantly destroying all that he saw, but it made it difficult to know if he actually was interested in what you had to say.

"I hadn't-"

"I hope that Eleanor will reconsider her reluctance and decide to train full-time with the X-Men," Xavier interrupted gently. He cast a soft smile in my direction and I squirmed in my chair. "Regardless of whether or not you join the roster, all of the instructors train together. Given the dangerous conditions of our society, we must be prepared to protect the students at all costs. Scott, I trust you to provide a schedule to Eleanor at your earliest convenience."

When he lifted one eyebrow, I couldn't help but wonder if he carried on a mental conversation with the Professor that included, at least in some shape or form, whether or not he would have the time it would take to _whip_ me into shape.

I straightened my shoulders, picked up my fork, and scooped up a bite of grilled salmon. While I chewed, I tuned into the conversation at hand and cast furtive glances around the long table. The personnel files I had been provided were all quite thorough and I felt like I, at the very least, knew the very basics about the people that I would be living and working with for the foreseeable future.

As Scott continued to speak about an upcoming fieldtrip, I found myself wondering if he or Ororo remembered me from our youth. I had attended the Institute for only a year and Scott had been a student then. Ororo, if I remembered correctly, had joined the student body two months before I had left to move back home to Montana. Hank, who cast a few sly smiles in my direction, seemed to recognize me.

Based on the curious glances that she cast in my direction, I sensed that she remembered me, at least partly. When she smiled at me, I returned it quickly and then focused slowly on my plate.

Then, I realized that I had already finished the meal.

A little flustered, I dropped my fork and it clattered against the chinaware noisily, ringing loudly in my ears. I grabbed my cloth napkin and twisted it between my fingers and felt the heat rushing up my neck, but it took a few moments before I was able to lift my gaze.

From his position at the head of the table, Xavier looked concerned by my obvious discomfort, but he continued to speak as though nothing had happened. Though I felt Scott's gaze on me, he said nothing and simply listened to the news that there would be more iPads made available for the student body within the next month.

I, meanwhile, found myself wishing, for the umpteenth time, that I was anywhere but the Xavier Institute.

One year as a student, as a teenager, had been more than enough for me. I couldn't quite believe that my life had come full circle; bringing me once again to the place that had given me a sense of peace that I'd never thought I would lose.

But, lose it I had. Turmoil and depression had ruled my life for a year and a half, and I'd found myself more than ready to climb out of the hole and find my way yet again. The person that stared back at me when I brushed my teeth wasn't the same person that I'd remembered seeing every day of my life, but I had to start somewhere.

"Anyone for dessert?" Ororo inquired politely, motioning to a sideboard where a covered dish awaited. "I believe our Rogue here made us a delicious strawberry rhubarb pie."

My stomach knotted in response and I felt the familiar clutching that made me feel almost guilty. I quickly shook my head and rose to my feet, bumping my chair out noisily. "I need to make a few phone calls. Thank you for dinner," I called out to the room in general, but didn't necessarily direct my attention to any person in particular.

And then I made my escape and hurried out of the room and hurried towards the office across the hall from Charles Xavier's study – the office that served as the Institute's secretary's base of operations. There were more than a dozen boxes stacked in the far corner, most of which held student files, applications, contact information, health records, and of course bills. I eyed the four stacks of cardboard boxes for a moment before I examined the rest of the room thoroughly.

Before I'd accepted the position, the rest of the staff had maintained the records only occasionally. The computer atop the expansive desk near the windows was out of date, and both the fax machine and the printer needed to be replaced immediately. There was a laptop tucked out of sight on a table that was piled high with office supplies, disorganized and strewn with plastic and wrappers littering the floor.

Though I feared the worst, I pulled open the first door near the small seating area that led to the supply closet. As I'd expected, office and school supplies were disorganized, covered in varying levels of dust, and the overhead fluorescent lighting was in need of repair. I shook my head, closed the door, and carefully opened the door to the small closet of an area that was the filing area.

"Oh, damn." I closed my eyes for a moment, backed out of the tight area, and closed the door without another word. "I guess Xavier wasn't exaggerating how badly he needed someone to fill the position."

At first it had seemed like a guise, a way to influence me to return to the Institute. He had never been shy or secretive about his wish for me to join the rest of his X-Men. My business degree would allow me to teach along with his other X-Men, and we would all somehow be one big, happy family.

Then it had felt like charity. After Todd – I shook my head, dusted my hands off on my sweats, and decided that I would begin my first official day first thing in the morning. There was no sense in getting started only to quit before I could truly finish.

As I backed out of my large and spacious – though disorganized and messy – office, I couldn't help but hope that I hadn't taken on more than I could manage when I'd signed the employment contract with Charles. The School's secretary had seemed like an easy job, but maybe I hadn't considered every angle before I'd accepted his offer.

Only time would tell.


	2. Chapter Two

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Two~**_

"It's only been two days, and you already have this office looking like something out of _Good Housekeeping_."

A little startled by the sudden interruption, I dropped the stack of files in my hands and instinct kept them from falling to the ground. An invisible shelf had formed under the stack of files, keeping them within reach so that I could gather them back into my hands. "You startled me," I admitted, exhaling once my heart rate had returned to normal.

"I thought I would see if you needed any help. This is my free period," she added quickly.

I eyed the brunette for a moment before I glanced down at my dirtied appearance and then at the stacks of files that were spread out on the floor. After doing a thorough deep-cleaning the day before, I'd started reorganizing the files and scanning all of the documents before placing the files in their appropriate new home. The scanner and the computer hummed quietly, and I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"I would appreciate the help. Katherine, isn't it?"

"Everyone calls me Kitty," she explained with a small smile. She crossed the room with ease and squatted in front of the files spread out across the floor. When she grabbed one at random, I tried not to wince, but I couldn't help but fear that she would somehow destroy the delicate system I was attempting to instate. "Show me how you're filing things and I'll help you scan, Eleanor. Oh, uh, Miss Jenkins."

The sound of my maiden name was still foreign, but I nodded in agreement. "Please, feel free to call me Eleanor so long as I'm not subbing for one of your instructors for the day, Kitty." I motioned to the file room and she followed me as I shuffled inside and stepped over a drawer that was pulled open. "This cabinet is solely for medical records and contact information. I'm also re-labeling these files with a pink sticker so that they're easier to replace in the future."

It took only five minutes to explain my method of organization, assure that she was comfortable scanning documents while not reading any of the details found inside, and that Kitty understood the importance of using proper color coordination when filing. Once I was satisfied that she was comfortable with the task, I decided to tackle the supply closet.

It was a walk-in closet, similar to a kitchen pantry, and offered enough shelving and wire rolling trays to house the office and classroom supplies that the school needed on a daily basis. There were large stacks of textbooks that I simply reorganized based on subject, and then there were learning tools. I focused on reorganizing the supplies of copy paper, notepads, pens and pencils, dry-erase markers, and of course staples.

When music began to play in my office, I smiled wryly to myself and continued with my task. While Kitty and I hadn't actually had a friendly conversation, we'd been friendly towards each other and it seemed to lighten my mood. I'd had little contact with the students thus far, and I had only seen a few of the instructors since the dinner where I'd been introduced to them more formally.

Of course, I had to silently admit that I purposely had breakfast before most people awoke and that I preferred to dine in my room whenever possible. It was simply easier to avoid people that way.

I swung my braid back so that it was out of my way and squatted in front of one of the lower shelves to reorganize the collection of miscellaneous supplies that seemed to rarely see use. Kitty chimed in now and then, singing along with the female artist on the computer's speakers, and I put things where I thought that they should be.

Time passed without incident, and I finished my task with a contented smile. With the supply closet finally neat and organized, I walked out into the main office to find that Kitty had only a few files left scattered around the room.

"You're already almost done?" I inquired, baffled by the prospect. She grinned and continued scanning documents, watching the computer monitor to ensure that the program read the page correctly before scanning another page within the file. "I, well, I guess I expected the reorganization to take a few more days. Huh. Thank you so much, Kitty."

"Hey, not a problem. This room always drove me crazy. I got filing duty sometimes, but only because Mr. Summers knows how anal I can be about some things. Just a few more files and I'll be done. Please tell me you're going to make them replace this ancient technology."

I found myself quietly examining the worn-out equipment for another moment before I nodded in agreement. "In fact, I'm thinking about getting some more functional furniture. New chair for me, maybe a couple for any visitors…" I trailed off mid-thought and picked up a pad of legal paper and a pen and began to detail a list. "I'm good with software, but I'm not great with hardware."

"Then you're in luck – I'm the go-to whenever Forge isn't here."

When I racked my brain for a face to match the name, I recalled that Forge was a mutant that could build miraculous machines. He was a talented inventor that helped the X-Men at times, but also worked with the U.S. Government and the Cheyenne Nation. I'd glanced over his file when I'd accepted the position, but couldn't recall ever meeting the man in person. He waI nodded my head in Kitty's direction and leaned against the side of the desk to finish my list while she finished scanning the documents in the last few files.

Before I knew it, my office was officially ready for action.

"It looks better, and your filing system will make it easier for any volunteers. I bet you found tons of files in the wrong cabinets." I nodded and sat my list down to examine the work area where the scanner still hummed. "Oh, crap. Just noticed the time. I have a study session in ten minutes and I need to glance over my flash cards one last time. I'll see you around, Miss Jenkins!"

"Eleanor!" I called out after her as she ran _through_ a wall and disappeared from sight.

I ripped my list from the legal pad, folded it into quarters, and tucked it into the pocket of my sweatpants before I gave the room one last final inspection. Shutting down all of the equipment took no time, and I set the phone to go straight to the campus voice mail system before I turned off the light and shut the door behind me.

I needed to shower and change before I headed into town.

Thankful, yet again, that my room was at the end of a mostly-empty corridor, I slipped inside of my suite and prepared for an outing. I showered quickly, braiding my long dark hair into a French braid that kept stray hairs off of my forehead. Still donned in a robe over my undergarments, I hesitated when I pulled open the spacious closet to eye its offerings.

"Jeans it is, I guess," I murmured to myself as I tugged out a pair of comfortable jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. I shoved my list into my pocket, grabbed the small pile of personal items off of my desk and flipped through them – my driver's license, my bank card, the _business_ credit card that Xavier had given me that same morning, and some cash – and quickly tucked the slim pile into my front pocket. "Phone," I reminded myself, grabbing my smart phone from where it was charging.

Within no time at all, I found myself heading downstairs towards the garage. I paused in front of the large, and well organized, pegboard that displayed the keys for all of the vehicles on the Institute's grounds. There was a checkout sheet as well as a calendar used for reservations, and I eyed them for a long moment before I realized that any vehicle was at my disposal. So, after a few moments of hesitation, I selected the keys to a late model long bed pickup truck.

By the time I had climbed in, adjusted the seat and all of the mirrors, I felt the slightest tingle of excitement. Soon I would be purchasing things for _my_ new office. It was my fresh start, my way of moving past everything that had been haunting me. It had been more than six months since I had last worked, and I actually looked forward to spending a long, grueling day completing tasks.

The mere thought of an actual paycheck made me sigh happily.

I jumped, alarmed, and froze with my hand on the gearshift when something rapped against the passenger window. My eyes wide, I slowed my pulse and breathing and pressed my fingertip against the button that lowered the passenger window. But, he said nothing and instead unlocked the door and pulled the door open.

"Look, I'm guessing you don't need help," Logan began even as he climbed inside and slammed the door closed. He took up far too much space in the large cabin of the truck, and I tried to shrink away from him as he sank back against the seat and stretched his arm across the back of the bench seat. "But Chuck asked me to make sure you had a hand today. Said you were gonna be going into town, and asked me to tag along." He glanced over at me for the first time and my eyes widened when his hazel eyes narrowed in my direction. "We going, or not?"

One hand still on the gearshift, I tilted my head to the side and exhaled slowly. "Tell him that I appreciate his concern, but I'm a big girl. I'm fairly damn certain I can handle going to the office supply store!"

Those hazel eyes widened and the scowl on his face morphed into something that could only be described as a smirk. The scruff around his thin lips drew my attention for only a moment before a chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest. "In that case, I'll tag along for shits and giggles, as the kids 'round here like to say."

"Look, you really don't-"

"Ain't saying I _got_ to do nothin'. But the way I see it is I get out of this place for a couple hours and get some fresh air. Plus, I ain't never heard your name muttered around here, then you show up out of nowhere and you're taking up the job position that Chuck's had unfilled for as long as I've been here?" He lifted a dark eyebrow and I stared at him in confusion. While he didn't sound aggressive, Logan certainly didn't mind being straight forward. "Something just ain't adding up, at least not in my books."

I licked my lips slowly and put the truck into gear. Once we had rumbled out of the garage, I had gathered my thoughts and spared him a thoughtful glance. "Is this some kind of scare tactic? I already told Xavier that I would start training with the X-Men eventually. Threats won't get you anywhere."

"Threats? Damn, this ain't no threat. This is _me_ making sure that my instincts about you ain't wrong. Got it?"

Gritting my teeth, I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and sped down the long drive and out onto the deserted road. While I understood that he didn't mean his presence as any sort of insult, I felt oddly put out.

The time I had spent away from the Institute had changed the place, or so it seemed. I couldn't recall anyone, particularly Charles, acting so strangely. He was far more careful, leery of people in general. As the School's new secretary, I'd been provided a set of bylaws that outlined the importance of anonymity in the community as well as several reminders about guests. Since I'd been charged with recruitment, I found myself wondering how he expected new students to settle into the Institute when it was so clearly cut off from the rest of the world.

"Mind?" Logan broke through my thoughts when he jabbed a thick finger against the dash and caused music to fill the cab of the truck. He quickly changed the radio station and I was relieved when classic rock and roll began to soothe my nerves. "So, you're gonna start training with the X-Men, huh?"

"Yes," I replied immediately, and then quickly shook my head. "I don't know. Eventually. I don't think that I have much of a choice."

"Training's different from going out when the call comes in - not that there are calls all that often."

I spared my passenger a quick assessing glance and chose to ignore his comment. The drive to the nearest office supply would take, according to MapQuest, approximately twenty-eight minutes. With any luck, we could both ignore each other until then.

* * *

 **A/N:** It isn't so much that Eleanor and Logan don't like each other; this is a new situation for both of them and they're both hesitant. Eleanor is in a completely new environment and it's going to take some time for her comfort level to return to normal.


	3. Chapter Three

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Three~**_

"What I don't really understand is what makes you think that your staff has the right to dictate my lifestyle to me."

Pacing was a skill I'd long ago perfected, and I put my technique to the test as I paced across the fancy handwoven rug in front of Xavier's large antique desk. His study hadn't changed from my days as a student, and while it was comforting it was also a little strange to find myself alone with him. It brought back old memories, and they weren't entirely comfortable.

"I can assure you that Scott and Dr. Reyes have only your best interests at heart, Eleanor. Why, Cecilia Reyes is a medical doctor. Surely you do not think that she'd be so spiteful as to say something crude for the sake of hurting you, do you?"

Deep down I wanted to say _Yes, I think she's just being a bitch because she doesn't like me_. But, it wasn't true. While the woman was gruff and standoffish, she'd been clinical and calm when she'd finished with the physical. We had spent a grueling forty-five minutes discussing important life changes after she had completed the exam, and I'd felt like a monster.

I dropped down into an armchair with a sigh and felt my shoulders sagging forward as I recalled the meeting with Scott that had directly followed my appointment with Dr. Reyes. Though he was no medical professional, Scott said that he had taken several courses regarding nutrition and physical fitness.

"Scott tells me that when he suggested that you do a trial to test your current abilities, you were quite upset," Charles offered softly, breaking me from my own thoughtful reverie.

If by upset he meant that I'd released all of the bottled up frustration that I'd been storing for the past year and a half, then he'd been accurate. I had to wonder if Scott had shared that I'd sobbed like an idiot and I'd kept telling him I'd always been a little overweight, and that I'd just packed on way too much since I'd lost Todd. Then I couldn't help but wonder if Scott had shared the fact that he'd just stared down at me where I sat on the floor of the gymnasium, snot trailing down my face, and hadn't said a word.

"It is only natural to grieve the loss of those that we love, Eleanor. You forget, I think, that I met Todd several times," he offered as explanation. I looked up reluctantly and met his thoughtful gaze for a moment before I stared down at my scuffed sneakers indifferently. Externally, I figured I looked pretty defeated. Internally, it took everything I had not to burst into tears again. "You coped with the loss of your husband in a way that is natural for most people. Your activity levels dropped significantly, though, and you put on extra weight. It's natural."

I glanced down at my belly briefly and wondered if it was natural to outgrow your panties in the space of a month, but didn't comment. After Todd's death and the Blackout, I'd taken two months' vacation from work and locked myself inside of our house to mourn. People brought me food, gave me their condolences, and asked if I needed anything. Nothing seemed to fill the hole that had formed inside of me, but I'd taken on the challenge of trying to fill it regardless - with food.

In a year and a half, I'd put on an additional forty-five pounds. Already overweight for my height and stature, I'd gone from acceptably curvy to practically bulbous.

"Todd and I were always very active. We went camping and hiking when we had the free time, and I was always so busy on the ranch. Then I just stopped caring," I mumbled sadly. "And I'm not sure that I'm ready to care."

"Your self-esteem has suffered greatly. You can deny all that you like, my dear, but you forget that not only am I observant, but I am also a telepath. You avoid meeting peoples' gazes, and you never look at your reflection when you happen across a mirror. The last time I saw you, before Todd passed, you were dressed with care and consideration. When is the last time you left your hair unbraided?"

 _When,_ I wondered, _had Charles decided we were close enough that he could talk to me like this? Didn't we previously have a very professional relationship? Now he tells me I'm frumpy and fat and it's utter bullshit!_

He cleared his throat and I winced in alarm. Sometimes I simply forgot that I was surrounded by so many mutants, let alone the most powerful telepath in the entire world. Of _course_ he had read my thoughts.

With a faint smile, Charles slowly shook his head. "I am simply being open and honest with you. We agreed when you accepted this position that there would be no hand-holding involved in any aspect of your employment here. I wish to project an environment of complete transparency with the staff and student body, and I feel that honesty is important."

"You sure don't pull your punches."

He chuckled and I relaxed slightly, but couldn't quite bring myself to meet his gaze. "I can understand your hesitation as well as your concerns, but I assure you that no one has anything but the best of intentions for you. Scott's primary concerns are, and I presume will always be, the core of the X-Men. After the Blackout... He's taken it all so very seriously. Team training is vigorous, as you've heard, but he also works individually with everyone."

"I can understand that," I agreed quietly, nodding. I had once looked at the others with awe when I'd seen them don their latex uniforms to start training. "This is just a lot harder than I expected it to be."

"If life were meant to be easy, it wouldn't be a waste to squander our opportunities. Regardless of your decision in regards to joining the X-Men, or not, Scott believes that it is important that you be able to respond to a distress signal if needed."

I hesitated for a moment before I rose to my feet, arms folded across my chest. The man that sat behind the antique desk was dressed in an expensive suit that spoke of class and wealth. But, it was the kindness in his eyes that made my stomach clench and my chest ache with fear.

Blinking rapidly to fend off the unwanted tears, I exhaled and licked my lips. "And what do _you_ think?"

He tapped his fingertips together and looked out the large windows at the beautiful school grounds. I followed his gaze and watched several students racing across the lawn briefly before I turned my attention to him again. His gray-blue eyes met mine and I felt myself begin to relax. Whether it was with his aid or my own body's final acceptance that I'd acted like a juvenile, I wasn't certain.

"I think that it is past time for you to accept that Todd is gone, Eleanor. Todd is gone and you are still here, you are alive and well and you have a full life ahead of you still. The ups and downs, the struggles and the issues you shared, they no longer matter. The love you two shared together before and during your marriage will remain with you forever." _Forever_ , I thought _, is a really long time_. "And, most importantly, I think that it's time you come to accept that it was _not your fault_."

His last three words seemed to cause something sharp and jagged in my chest to twist with a searing flash of pain. Dark spots filled my vision and I struggled to draw in shaky breaths and the world around me seemed to tilt precariously on its side. The tears I'd fought so desperately to hide threatened to spill and I pressed my palm against my breastbone sharply, heaving desperate gasps of air.

"It was not your fault, Eleanor. The sooner you finally accept what you know in your heart and soul to be true, the sooner you will finally be able to move on with your life." His words sounded dull and far off, like I was swimming underwater and he was shouting at me from somewhere above. In spite of the layer of confusion and terror, they still penetrated the shell around me. "It is time to start letting him go."

I didn't hear him or see him move around the large desk to sit near me, the wheels of his chair inches from the tip of my scarred sneakers. But, I did feel the weight of his hand as he lifted it to grasp my forearm gently, with obvious affection. Something in his touch, in his presence, caused the terror to slowly seep from my pores. Minutes passed in relative silence and I was surprised to realize that I had regained my breath and my vision was no longer distorted.

He cleared his throat and I met his gaze levelly, aching for reasons he somehow could understand. "You're going to be fine. This is just the beginning."

The beginning of what?


	4. Chapter Four

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Four~**_

"Pete's real good with working with people," Rogue offered with a faint shrug. I spared her a sharp glance, but continued pumping the pedals of the exercise bike madly, well aware of the fact that my drill sergeant's eyes were focused on my form from across the room. "I'm just saying, don't look so put out."

I pumped furiously and tried to ignore the burning sensation in my calves and thighs, but every rotation left me hoping that I would pass out. Layered in a thick sheen of sweat, I fought the temptation to tear off my sweatshirt and the thick sweatpants I wore. They were soaked with sweat, and all I wanted was to cool down and slip into a cold shower and die.

"How - how many people has he?" I managed through wheezy gasps, increasing my pace when he started walking back towards me.

Rogue chuckled and, if I'd had more energy, I probably would have reached over the few feet between us and knocked her off of the exercise bike she used. But, since I needed to conserve the little bit of energy I had, I settled for sending an angry scowl in her direction.

My first week with my new training regime had gone fairly well. I had jogged with Scott twice, worked with him in the weight room, and then met with Piotr "Peter" Rasputin. The first time he'd shown me around the weight room and outlined what he called an aggressive fat-shedding and muscle-building plan, I'd been a little nervous but also excited. Week one had been, surprisingly, a little painful but manageable.

Week two was, in my mind, akin to a prisoner of war camp.

"You drink now," Peter offered gruffly and thrust a large bottle of water at me.

I snatched the bottle out of his grasp and tipped it back greedily, legs still robotically pumping. He stood next to me, and I wondered if he'd bother catching me if I collapsed and fell off of the bike. He lifted a brow, possibly in response to my gurgling noises, and I decided that falling off the bike would probably just result in my injured pride.

"Once you are done with this round of cardio, you are finished with me for the day," he reminded me with a subtle nod. I continued to chug until the water was gone, and then I smiled at him. It was a crazed smile, one born of exhaustion and adrenaline, but he slowly returned it. "You did good today. You are doing good. Tomorrow morning, we will meet outdoors for a brisk jog," he reminded me, and then he walked away to speak with Scott.

I slumped forward on the bike and prayed that the electronic machine would beep soon. He'd set a timer and I knew that quitting early would result in some very disappointed looks. Peter seemed like a fairly nice guy. He was polite, if a little gruff in his mannerisms, but he was all around nice.

When Scott had first told me that I'd be working primarily with Peter in regards to weight and muscle training, I'd been a little shocked. But, I guess I'd foolishly expected that Scott would have the personal time to work with me since he was the one that had insisted I get into prime physical shape. Peter had been kind and gentle and had explained that he would do his best to push me in the right direction, but the kind of changes I wanted to see would take more than lifting a bunch of weights or running on a treadmill.

Scott had taken the liberty of outlining a meal plan for me, and it consisted of fruits, whole grains, proteins, and over-all a low calorie diet. He insisted that I needed to shed fat and build muscle, and in order to do so I'd need to follow his plan to the T. The second night, he'd caught me eating dessert in a darkened kitchen and had adjusted his plans.

Now the cooking staff prepared all my meals and snacks and left them for me.

I had been back at the Xavier Institute for less than three weeks and things had taken a strange spin for the worse? For the better? I wasn't even sure any longer. I'd organized my office and taken on the task of recruiting new students and maintaining the website and all incoming communication, and I'd succeeded in doing my job well. I had observed two X-Men training exercises and a single staff meeting. I had proctored a make-up exam for Ororo's history course for two students, but had otherwise done nothing of note to help the other instructors.

It still felt as though I'd just returned the day before, but things had already changed so much.

Once the bike's monitor finally blared, informing me that I'd completed the time necessary, I barely had the strength left in my legs to climb off of the blasted bike. My sweats clung to my skin uncomfortably, and I had to hold onto the bike itself for support when my knees threatened to buckle.

"Pete tells me it went really well today, Eleanor," a voice offered politely, causing me to straighten my shoulders and rise to my full, though meager in comparison to his, height. I blinked in response before I managed to nod at Scott, either unwilling or unable to actually speak due to fatigue and frustration. He rested a hand on my shoulder, his hand against the damp fabric of my sweatshirt, and I jerked away anxiously. Scott frowned in response, but merely took a step back to give me some space. "How are you feeling?"

I lifted one shoulder, one tired and aching shoulder, in a shrug and dried my face off with a clean towel. Still too tired to formulate a decent response, I found a reasonably dry portion of the towel to use to dry off the damp streak I had left on the molded seat of the exercise bike.

Scott cleared his throat and I glanced up at him blandly. "The cleaning staff wipes down all of the equipment daily, I can assure you."

 _Guess I'm not too tired to feel embarrassed_ , I thought to myself, sighing lamely. "Just wiping butt sweat off the seat so no one else has to see it, actually. Could you _not_ look at me like that?" I grumbled as I slung the towel over my shoulder in a frustrated manner.

He looked a little confused for a short moment before he finally shook his head dismissively. "I just wanted to remind you that you're starting with Logan once he works out a schedule."

"I know, I know!" I threw one hand up in frustration and fought the urge to stomp my feet like a petulant child. The combination of hunger, exhaustion, and frustration left me teetering on a dangerous precipice where I hardly recognized myself. "I have a phone conference in an hour. I have to go figure out how to regain feeling in my legs and my ass."

Without allowing him a chance to comment further, I waddled out of the gym sluggishly, shoulders slumped forward and eyes downcast. The early morning, combined with the rigorous training, left me feeling drained and fearful that I might collapse before I made it to my room.

Once the staircase came into sight, I shuddered in disgust and forced myself to begin the grueling climb. In spite of all of the muscle pain and my growling stomach, I convinced myself to continue the climb.

I could be accused of being many things - a quitter would never be on that short list.


	5. Chapter Five

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Five~**_

I smiled serenely at the computer screen and shifted discreetly in the comfortable office chair. The video call had already exceeded the twenty-five minutes I had anticipated when the Conwell's had requested more information about the Institute. I had run discreet, though extensive, background checks on both Roger and Camilla Conwell and had found nothing that caused concern.

After all, it was their son Brian that really needed the Institute's help.

"I understand your concerns, Mrs. Conwell," I offered with a serene smile. She and her husband fidgeted slightly, but the crisp video stream showed her worried expression. "It can be quite an adjustment for parents to make, particularly parents that have roots in a community so very far away from us."

"Brian and I have always had a very close relationship, you see. Roger traveled quite a bit during Brian's first few years, and I'm afraid that I may have been a little selfish with my son." She pushed her bottle-blonde hair out of her eyes and glanced over at her broad-shouldered husband only briefly before she looked at the camera yet again. "Are you _sure_ that there aren't any schools that can help people _like him_ out here on the west coast?"

I counted to ten and continued to smile before I slowly shook my head. "Unfortunately, I am afraid that as of this moment, Xavier's Institute is the primary school for children in your son's position. I have talked with Brian twice now and, in spite of the geographical distance his attendance here would cause your family, he seems quite excited. Tell me, have you two spoken to Brian about these possible changes?"

The conversation continued for another ten minutes as Roger tried to assure his wife that Brian would be _fine, just damn fine_ and that she needed to loosen her leash on him. When the topic of tuition and room and board broached its head, I put on my professional hat and walked the family through the financials.

"We asked you to apply for his FAFSA and send the information to our school, which you did. Based on the information that you provided, our school would consider Brian to be in this particular bracket." I rattled off a number – the number was the tuition that only students with _well off_ parents were expected to pay – and Roger didn't even blink. "Of course, this is wholly inclusive. Please recall that other than any new updates to his wardrobe or excess spending money, Brian would be completely cared for. The tuition is for an entire year."

"What if Brian decides that he doesn't like it there and that he doesn't want to go there any longer?"

Since Camilla seemed desperate to keep her little chick tucked under her wing, I managed not to roll my eyes. Her devotion and love for her son in spite of his dangerous mutation was encouraging; it gave me hope that there were more parents out there every year that would love their children no matter what. Children needed their parents, their love, and their understanding. Without it…

Well, it was a good thing that the Institute had a number of scholarships for underprivileged students.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing a packet for Brian regarding his upcoming school schedule, a suggested shopping list for his dormitory, and information on his two roommates. I recall your concern, Mrs. Conwell, but assure you that having roommates is actually quite the norm here. All students have at least one roommate. Brian will be in a large suite that is designed and outfitted for four students. Both boys are Brian's age and have a similar background, which will encourage friendship and comradery. Trust me when I say that it's important for Brian to forge bonds here."

Camilla Conwell looked doubtful, but Roger quickly shook his head. "It makes sense. Some of the best times I had at university were spent in the dorm room shooting the breeze with my roomies. We've seen the videos and the photographs of the facilities and we think they're beyond satisfactory for Brian's needs." Camilla shot her husband a fiery look but pressed her lips together in frustration. "When we travel with him next week, we would like a full tour and a meeting with the Headmaster. Assuming all is well, the first year's tuition will be transferred into your accounts immediately."

Smiling broadly, I thanked the parents profusely and reminded them to watch their mailbox and their e-mail accounts for further information. "Do not hesitate to contact me. You both have my cellular number as well as my e-mail contact. I promise to get back with you no more than twelve hours after you've contacted me, busy or not. Please assure Brian that we look forward to finally meeting him in person and to be sure to pack well for New York!"

The video conference wound down and I released a huge sigh of relief when the Conwells disappeared off of the screen. Exhausted from my morning workout and the tricky game I'd played with Camilla, I sank back in my chair and closed my eyes.

Even though I tried to settle my mind and relax, all I could really do was mentally formulate a to-do list. There were packets that needed to be sent to Brian and his parents. Most were ready to go, but I needed to drop them off at the Fed-Ex in town to assure that they arrived the next day. I wanted Brian to feel completely comfortable when he walked into the Xavier Institute for the very first time, after all. His parents wanted most of the details to be faxed to Mr. Conwell's office or delivered via e-mail.

Deeming my morning to already be a success, I opened my eyes and stretched my arms over my head and tried to work out the kinks. My body was sore and tired from my new workout routine, but for the first time in a long time my mind seemed to be in the right place. So, I felt hopeful that I'd made the right decision in coming back to Xavier's and making it both my home and my career.

I checked the official school e-mail account and spent a long thirty-five minutes weeding out the junk from the real potential and jotted down a to-do list for the afternoon. There were five potential applicants, three of which had already submitted the electronic application to the school website. Two of the three looked mostly accurate and honest while the third appeared to be doctored. I took down their names and addresses and reminded myself to submit them to the third-party background check facility that Xavier preferred.

Satisfied that the most important tasks of the morning had been tended to, I turned my attention to returning e-mails to former students and prospective students. There were a few investors and charitable men and women that had written, and I took my time replying to their e-mails as well. It was oddly satisfying and far more personal to compose messages to people that were, in some way, connected to the Institute.

Three degrees of separation and all that.

A knock at the open door caused me to lift my gaze in surprise. After all, in the three weeks since I'd started my new position, I'd had very few visitors.

"Hello Eleanor. I see you're quite busy, but could I have a moment of your time?" I felt a little flustered but quickly managed to smile in greeting as Henry McCoy stepped into my office. I remembered him vaguely from my tenure as a student – he'd been away at college at the time and had only returned a handful of times to visit his friends and speak with Xavier. He'd certainly changed in the years since I'd last seen him in person. "I thought you might like some tea, so I took it upon myself to bring you a mug. Still take it with just a hint of milk?"

Flabbergasted, I could only nod as he strode across the room and placed the large ceramic mug on the desk in front of me. Of course, he was careful to keep the mug away from any documents or stacks of papers – for which I was grateful.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and reminded myself that his outward appearance – blue fur, sharpened incisors, retractable talons, and a pristine pinstripe suit and blue tie – did not match his interior. He was a kind man, a highly intelligent man that I had once been quite in awe of.

Inhaling slowly, I managed to smile and lifted my mug in thanks. "I'm sorry for being so rattled. I'm still settling in, I suppose. But that's no real excuse," I added when he lifted a bushy blue brow in challenge.

If I expected him to rant about the injustices of the world and my immature response to his appearance, I was sorely disappointed. "Think nothing of it, please. I wanted to stop by sooner and chat, but I imagine that it's been quite the feat to settle in here. I must applaud your hard work here in this office. Its appearance was simply deplorable before your arrival. The others, myself included, dreaded spending an afternoon in here."

"I thrive on organization, I guess," I quipped lightly as I sipped the tea. The flavor was familiar, but I couldn't quite name it. Still a little awkward, I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze levelly. "I should have asked – did you need me to help with anything in your classroom?"

"Oh, well, yes. But, that can wait. I had hoped to catch up with you Eleanor." He paused for a moment, crossed his long, thick legs, and sipped his own tea thoughtfully. "I haven't seen you in a very long time. You have aged quite well, if I may be so bold."

I blinked twice and found myself smiling nervously. _Was he being flirty? Has it been so long since someone's paid me a compliment that I can't recognize it for what it's worth?_ "Thank you. You are still just as regal and handsome as ever, Henry."

"Hank is fine. My friends all call me Hank, and I do hope that we will become friends now that you're here at the Institute. We spoke several times while you were a student here, but I was so caught up in my own studies and worries that I'm afraid I know very little about you other than what I've heard from Charles. Tell me, how do you like your new position?"

We made small talk until my tea had cooled and I had relaxed enough to slide my feet out of my flats and cross my legs behind my desk. He spied my bare foot bobbing at one point, gave it a cursory glance, and then continued to speak about his brief time in DC.

"I am afraid that I learned I do not quite have the temperament for dealing with politicians day in and day out. I enjoyed the city itself. Its views are magnificent and its people – well, they're not quite as magnificent. It is quite the hub for tourists, and I met a number of interesting people during my years there."

"I loved visiting all of the memorials and the attractions," I admitted with a small shake of my head. "I was in the Smithsonian from opening to closing for two days in a row. My husband – Todd didn't like that…" I trailed off softly.

To his credit, Hank's features softened and his eyes twinkled with warmth and understanding. "Allow me to offer you my condolences on the loss of your husband, Eleanor. I do recall meeting him, I believe, twice – each at a gala here at the Institute. He struck me as a very honest man with true integrity. We spoke briefly about his family's ranch in Montana. I grew up on a farm in rural Illinois, so I found he and I had a lot in common."

Todd, I thought, would have been a little perturbed by McCoy's outward appearance, but he would have chalked it up to a quick joke and then looked past it quickly. That was just Todd's way… His family had raised him to be open-minded, but he claimed that it was his stint at university that had truly changed his outlook on the world. Todd would likely never have willingly left his ranch forever, but he enjoyed our occasional forays across the country to visit my alma mater.

"There's not much Todd enjoyed more than hearing about other ranches – farms. He was constantly trying to improve things around the ranch both for the cattle and for the thoroughbreds he raised. All of the hands, permanent and temporary, always looked forward to seeing him implement new plans." It hurt less and less to talk about Todd. There was still serious heartache, but I no longer felt physically ill just thinking about him. "How are your sciences classes going?"

If he was grateful for the change in topic, he didn't let it show. We spent the next hour talking about his changes to the curriculum, problem students, possible upcoming science experiments, and even the nature walks he had planned for the upcoming weeks. Students loved hands on experiences, he explained, and they learned the material better and retained it more thoroughly when it came to exams.

"I pass out a large packet every two weeks to all of my classes. Yes, I know – what a waste of paper. We recycle everything we can and I used recycled paper." He frowned for a moment and I realized that the topic of resources was one he truly cared about. "These packets include worksheets that act as homework for the students. Additionally, there are lab sheets and worksheets that we complete in-class. They're not quite notes, mind you, but I've found that students with attention problems tend to follow along better when they use the packet to take notes rather than their own. Many of my students use their notes to complete the packets after class."

"It sounds like something a professor of mine did in college," I added with a nod of my head. "But it must add a lot of extra work to your already hectic schedule."

He smiled charmingly and I lifted a brow in surprise. "That, my dear, is where _you_ come in. You see, I was hoping that I could retain your services for a few hours every two weeks. At your leisure, of course. I could provide you with the master key for each class section – and I could find some sort of bribery, as well."

Momentarily overwhelmed by his request, it took me a few moments before I could manage a nod of agreement. "I haven't done much other than proctor a make-up exam for two of Ororo's students, so I would be happy to help you in any way that I can. If I'm not here at the time, just leave the packets in an envelope along with the master and I'll get them back to you as soon as possible. Maybe I'll learn something while I'm at it."

The day was off to a resounding success, and for the very first time I felt truly happy with my decision to make Xavier's Institute my home. I was finally starting to feel like I actually belonged.


	6. Chapter Six

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Six~**_

I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged vigorously, but it did little to alleviate the pressure that had steadily built behind my eyes. When I lowered my hands, I was still faced with a number of rowdy pre-teens and several sugar-crazed teens.

When Scott and Ororo had asked me to tag along on an impromptu field trip into town, I'd hesitantly agreed. I hadn't had much actual contact with many of the students other than the older ones – the few that trained with the X-Men – as I often ran into them during my training with Piotr and Logan, and sometimes Scott. But, they'd needed an extra set of eyes to help keep track of the seven girls they'd promised to take into town for a _treat_.

The treat in question had been a trip to the movie theater to see a movie about werewolves and romance. Nothing too over the top, but it hadn't exactly been my cup of tea. The girls had giggled incessantly and devoured more popcorn and soda than seemed humanly possible. We'd then stopped at a small boutique and allowed the girls an hour to try on outfits and scarves and hats and purchase things with their allowances.

"We're picking up the pizzas on the way back," Scott reminded me with a quick smile. Though I hadn't munched on any of the popcorn, I couldn't even begin to imagine how any of the girls could even _think about_ eating pizza once we got back to the School. "Believe me; I've learned that when you think they have nowhere else to put it, they always find a way. Besides, it's pizza night. It's going to take a _lot_ of pizza to feed everyone else."

I shot a doubtful look out the window at the large van that we'd driven and mentally tried to configure how we would manage to shove several shopping bags and a mountain of pizza boxes, seven boisterous girls, and three adults inside. "If you say so."

Ororo seemed to enjoy encouraging the young girls to try on different outfits, and she complimented or suggested alternatives as needed. All of the girls seemed to have a good relationship with her, though some appeared closer than others. I watched from the front of the store and found myself wondering how she had the time to cultivate so many close relationships with so many students.

"You should try that on."

I blinked in surprise and glanced around in confusion until I realized that the salesclerk had indeed spoken to me. "What?" I looked down in surprise and quickly drew my hand back and dropped it to my side. The soft cotton sundress stared back at me in accusation and I shook my head in denial. "I don't think so. I don't think your sizes go up far enough. But thank you," I added quickly.

The blonde smiled warmly, no doubt seeing dollar signs in her head, and snatched up the sundress – hanger and all – and held it up in front of me. "Whatever you're wearing now is way too oversized for your body type. Seriously, I do this for a living, remember?" Her laugh was bubbly and warm, but I felt prickly and uncomfortable with her so close to me.

"Look." I eyed her nametag and exhaled. "Look, Veronica, I really do appreciate you trying to help, but I'm fine. Several of the girls back there look interested, so maybe give them a hand?"

But, Veronica was determined. My eyes boggled open when she grabbed me by my forearm and began to drag me back towards the fitting rooms where Ororo and a large number of female students had taken up temporary residence. Veronica was much stronger than she appeared to be, and I felt powerless to resist her insistence as she shoved me towards one of the empty fitting rooms.

With the blue sundress clutched to my chest, I stared at the curtain as it was whipped closed. Alone, in the confines of the small fitting room, I stared at the dress in utter confusion. The deep, dark blue accented by white and light yellow flowers was visually appealing. But, I had no trouble envisioning the muffin top and bulging rolls that would appear the moment I put it on.

With some trepidation, I quickly shed my clothes down to my undergarments and then slid the sundress over my head. I sucked in my gut and kept my eyes closed as I tugged the dress down and it slid over my form softly.

Unfortunately, when I opened my eyes I realized that there were no mirrors in the small fitting room. I cursed under my breath and spun around in a sharp circle, sock-clad feet muffled against the carpeted floor.

"You may as well come on out and show us, Eleanor," Ororo taunted playfully. "We want to see how you look." Several of the students chimed in from outside the curtain and I worried at my bottom lip nervously.

I opened the curtain and stepped out before I could second guess myself, and I kept my gaze focused on the boutique's main entrance in the distance. Soon, I knew, I could change back into my regular clothes and we would be on our way. We would stop and get a mountain of pizzas and then we would head back to the Institute. I could get a cup of tea, some Excedrin Migraine, and then I could curl up and forget all about the headache of a day.

The silence that greeted me rooted me out of my quiet reverie and I found myself glancing around in alarm. As suspected, I must have looked quite a fright.

"If you don't buy this for yourself, I'm going to buy it for you," Ororo murmured, blue eyes alight with warmth. The students were cooing and talking so quickly I couldn't make sense of anything they said, but many smiled at me with shocked expressions. "Scott, come see!"

I felt myself flush and I almost turned tail to duck back into the fitting room when Scott stalked across the store to stand next to Ororo. Eyes hidden behind his ruby red glasses, I had no way of judging his level of annoyance at being called over for something so juvenile. He opened his mouth twice but he never said anything.

Several students giggled and I lifted my right hand to tug on the end of my braid nervously. The embarrassment began to fade, morphing into something similar to rage. "Thank you for the input, but I don't think that this is exactly my style." I spun around to re-enter the fitting room and stopped in my tracks when I came face to face with my reflection.

Confusion niggled with my head and I couldn't quite figure out who stared back at me. In spite of my new lifestyle and my workout regimes, I hadn't noticed any real change. Had weight already been shed? How was it possible that I looked like I had a curvy form? Still overindulged, but curvy? The sundress detracted from little rolls and my belly looked almost _flat_.

 _What in the hell?_ I took a step closer and twisted to the side slightly, amazed that my behind looked better than okay. The straps of the dress revealed a great deal of my upper back, all of my arms, and a glimpse of cleavage. And I found myself unable to truly _hate_ my appearance for the first time in a very long time.

As I was examining my reflection, I caught sight of something in the mirror that made my chest constrict in alarm. In the space of a few seconds, I spun on my heel and shouted a warning and lifted my hands reflexively.

The small boutique, at the top of a t-shaped intersection, was a charming little shop in the heart of the cozy downtown scene. Time seemed to grind to a halt as I watched the oncoming approach of a speeding semi-truck as it raced through the intersection and headed towards the front of the small boutique. Relying on my reflexes, I reached towards the truck and took a step forward.

I felt the impact as the truck slammed into the invisible force field and grunted as I staggered back a step. The world around me was a symphony of different noises and I ignored the flickers of movement I saw out of the corners of my either eye. I forced myself to take a step forward in spite of the pressure against the force field, but I refused to waiver.

The truck slammed to a halt, its trailer swinging wide and jack knifing. My left hand trembled, but I shifted it to the side and stopped the rear of the trailer before it caught the two figures that were darting out of its path. The beautifully decorated glass display windows at the front of the boutique shattered as the truck eased forward a few painful inches and I shuddered as I fought against inertia and the laws of physics.

My arms trembled as I slowly lowered my left hand, careful to keep my right outstretched until I slowly lowered a shimmering force field to the ground to ensure the integrity of the roof at the front of the store. The gleaming grill of the semi-truck emitted a cloud of dark smoke, but I didn't sense any immediate danger.

"Is everyone okay?"

I blinked a few times as the students from the Institute clumped around Ororo and Scott and I slowly shook my head. Obviously the man in charge, Scott gathered everyone around, did a quick head count, and ordered Ororo to guide the girls out to the bus. He would take care of everyone's expenses for the shopping trip, he promised.

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer as Ororo and the girls hurried out through the gaping hole in the boutique. Both clerks were racing about with their phones clutched in their hands, no doubt either calling for emergency response or seeking guidance from the owner of the boutique. A police car drove into sight and parked near the semi-truck and I noticed a firetruck and an ambulance as well.

A warm sensation lingered on my arm and I glanced down at it and the hand that rested on my forearm in confusion. I looked up in surprise and blinked at Scott's pursed lips. "Get your shoes, Eleanor. We need to go."

I glanced back at the semi-truck and watched two firefighters pull the drivers side door open. My breath caught in my chest for several seconds until a man staggered out in confusion, aided by the two firefighters. There were a few streaks of blood trailing down his temple, but he looked otherwise unharmed. He staggered alongside the firefighters towards the paramedics and I slowly exhaled in relief.

"Eleanor?"

Ignoring Scott's probing stare, I shuffled back into the changing room and swished the curtain closed. Like an automaton, I tugged the sundress over my head and changed back into my clothes and slid my sneakers back on my feet. Gently, I placed the dress back on its hanger and left it hanging from a hook in the changing room for one of the sales clerks to put back.

When I stepped out, Scott was handing one of the salesclerks several large bills and apologizing profusely for the misfortune. The salesclerk nodded her head in confusion and entered the transaction into the register and mumbled words of encouragement and relief that nobody had been seriously harmed.

Scott caught up with me as I was hurrying past the semi-truck and the emergency personnel on site, but he said nothing until we approached the small X-Bus that he'd parked nearby. I saw several faces pressed against the glass – the girls were already on board and clearly revved by everything that had happened.

"Eleanor?"

I glanced back at the jack-knifed trailer and eyed the semi-truck from the outside of the boutique critically. How had I allowed the truck to gain so much ground? It shouldn't have even managed to make it onto the sidewalk, but I'd been less-forceful than the situation had called for.

"Eleanor?"

With a grimace, I tugged on the end of my braid and factored the likelihood of having killed the driver if I'd been more deliberate with my actions. The damage to the front of the truck had been minimal, but I'd been worried about injuring any passengers inside. Should I have let it crumple like an accordion in order to reduce the risk of harm coming to any of the girls or people on the sidewalks or nearby?

"Eleanor." Another hand tugged on my braid and I glanced up at Scott with my brows furrowed in thought. He shook his head and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Good. Now that I've finally got your attention, I just wanted to say thank you. What you did in there – nothing short of miraculous." He trailed off and I glanced back towards the semi-truck again before I stared up into his ruby red shades thoughtfully. "Get on the bus. We still have to pick up the pizza," he reminded me, tone a little gruff.

I nodded distractedly and quickly climbed aboard, thoughts scattered. The day had certainly not been quite what I'd expected – and that was an understatement.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Seven~**_

When I exited the weight room, I assumed that I could sulk in peace and shower away the aches and the pains that had been inflicted by Peter's aggressive regime. With a towel slung across the back of my neck and a half-full bottle of water clutched in my left hand, I shuffled down the hallway and tried _not_ to count every ache and pain.

"Hey. Hey Miss Jenkins!"

I mentally calculated the likelihood that there was another person named Miss Jenkins in my vicinity as somewhere next to zero and slowly turned on my heel to look back towards the open double-doors of the weight room. An Asian-American girl wearing bright pink and yellow spandex workout clothes waved her hand wildly in my direction and I shuffled towards her.

"Hey, like, I forgot that Logan came by and told me to tell you to, like, head down to the Danger Room when Pete was finished with you." I blinked a few times as I deciphered her quick proclamation and its many _likes_ before I slowly nodded my head. She grinned broadly and her bright blue eyes danced up my form and then down before she met my gaze. "Looks like Pete worked you over good, huh? Man, what I would give to have him work me over. I've got a few kinks that I bet-"

"Jubes!" Kitty laughed as she appeared, having walked _through_ the closed double doors. I didn't jump, mostly because I was too tired to properly react, but she still managed to surprise me. It would likely take many more months before I'd become accustomed to displays of power from everyone in the Institute. "Hi Eleanor," Kitty offered with a warm smile that caused me to instantly smile in return. "I _did_ hear Logan pass the message along, so you better get going. It's just down the hall."

My grand tour of the Institute had included everything but Cerebro and the Danger Room. I'd passed by both on my way to the better-equipped weight room in the lower levels that Peter preferred to use due to its location nearest a well-maintained locker and shower room. I glanced at the womens locker room sadly as I shuffled past it and paused in front of the heavy doors of the Danger Room nervously and wondered what I was expected to do.

To my surprise, the heavy doors swished open quietly and several people filed out. I averted my eyes almost immediately and focused on the sight of my running shoes for a moment before I lifted my gaze warily. Logan, Scott, Hank, Cecilia, and Ororo stood gathered inside of the entryway and they appeared to be debating something quite emphatically.

"Ah, here she is now," Hank announced, his warm tenor voice cascading over his companions. As a collective group, they glanced over at me and I remained rooted to the ground as Hank swept forward, one large blue hand extended towards me. "We were just wondering if we were going to have to reschedule this appointment. It's rare that we all have free time together, so we had concerns. You look as though Piotr worked wonders."

I blinked in response and nodded dumbly, unsure of how to actually respond to his statement. When he motioned for me to enter the infamous Danger Room, I warily stalked inside in confusion, towel clutched in one hand and bottled water in the other.

Inside I was surprised to see what appeared to be a room with strange glass-like flooring and walls lined with mirrors. If a dancer's nightmare could take form, I assumed it would be the Danger Room. The five X-Men stood in a half circle facing me as the heavy door slid shut behind us.

"This, Eleanor, is the Danger Room. It's undergone a serious overhaul since you were last a student here, let me assure you. Before, our technology was limited to unrealistic holograms and automatic tennis ball dispensers loaded with heavy bean bags." Hank clutched his blue hands together in front of him and ignored the clipboard that Cecilia tried to hand him. "Now our technology allows us to create any environment and scenario realistically. It is a thrilling combination of third-dimensional technology and movie -"

"I don't think she cares much for the logistics, Furball," Logan interrupted gruffly, causing Hank to chuckle in response. "Look, what he's trying to say is that shit in here hurts. It looks real, it almost smells real - and it sure as hell _feels_ real. If you take a kick to the ribs in here, it's gonna leave a mark."

Still a little fuzzy, I wiped my face with the damp towel and found myself staring down at the floor for a few moments. Then I looked up and glanced around at the others. "So after spending an hour having a Russian try to kill me, I get to let a scenario try to kill me?"

"If it is any consolation, Eleanor, the projectiles are rubber bullets or heavy bean bags. We will start you out on a comfortable level in order to gauge your capabilities. Please," Ororo implored, blue eyes warmth with understanding. "I know that this must sound very daunting given your past encounters here. I remember when this was merely a torture course. I can assure you that this is perfectly safe."

"Is this because of what happened when we went shopping?" When nobody responded, I threw the towel down in frustration and then tossed the bottled water down for good measure. "I don't really appreciate feeling like I'm being treated like one of your students. I'm _not_. I know how to use my abilities."

"But are you using them to their full extent? I've heard firsthand accounts from every person present, and while miraculous, I cannot help but wonder if you hesitated in some way. This is as much for you as it is for us, I assure you."

I didn't entirely trust Henry's assessment, but slowly nodded my head in agreement. Though I was still reluctant to do so, I'd agreed to begin training in order to help the X-Men – at least temporarily until I decided whether or not it was a proper fit.

"We will remain here, but we will be out of sight once the scenario begins. If you get to the point where you feel completely overwhelmed, call out and we will end the scenario. This may test your limits, or you may find it to be too simple. Scott, are we ready to begin?"

They motioned for me to stand in the center of the room and I slogged away slowly, aching and terribly nervous about what was about to happen. I'd watched video feeds of two group sessions in the Danger Room – it was like watching a high octane action movie. But, since I hadn't experienced the real thing myself, I wasn't sure what to expect. _This is going to hurt_.

In a flash, gone was the strange room. In its place was an empty clearing, a meadow surrounded on three sides by lush trees. I inhaled slowly, startled by the strong scent of the tall grass that tickled my calves, flowers, and something _sweet_. In wonder, I spun around in a circle twice, taking everything in. It looked and smelled and felt _real_. The ground was hard under my feet, the grass tickled and danced gently in the breeze. And it gave me a true sense of peace.

"Help!"

Alarmed by the scream, I spun around again in search for the source. In the dance, running around the thick tree trunks, was a young boy. I took a step towards him and then another and broke into a run as he exited the tree line and ran towards me, still screaming. I was so focused on the young boy that I didn't even notice the trees being knocked aside – or the sound of the wood splintering – as a large and powerful figure raced after the boy.

The boy looked over his shoulder and drew my attention to what he ran from and I slid to a stop in the grass, sliding a bit before I managed to gain my footing. My focus left the boy as he ran behind me and my mouth fell open in shock as I took in the sight of a monstrously tall man of at least eight feet. With dark hair hanging past his hips, he tore through yet another tree and brought my attention to his inhumanly large gray arms. Bare from the chest up, he looked terrifyingly dangerous.

He hauled a tree up by its roots and swung it around like a baseball bat. In the next instant, he swung in a full circle and the tree sliced through the air towards me like a stake prepared to flatten and kill me. I threw up my right arm instantly and pushed my forearm out slightly, creating a shield to stop the tree midair.

In the back of my mind I thought that the sound of the tree striking against the shield was something akin to a vehicle hitting a concrete wall at high speeds. The force of the tree striking my shield caused me to be pushed back an inch, but I dug my shoes into the grass and gritted my teeth and shoved back so that the tree bounced back and landed in the tall grass.

The real-world sound of gunfire was nothing like in the movies – but I still recognized it instantly. With a gasp, I spun my attention to the woods, only to find that the man had been replaced by a trio of heavily armed women. They aimed and fired repeatedly as the woods around them shifted and morphed into a city backdrop. Gone was the greenery, in its place was the sights and smells of decay in the city.

I threw up my hand and shielded myself and the boy from the spray of bullets, effectively rendering the women useless for a short moment. Before I could be thankful for the brief reprieve, the ground beneath my feet fell away and I was simply falling.

Terror gripped me in its terrible grasp and I floundered, eyes wide but nearly unseeing as I stared at what appeared to be hundreds and hundreds of acres of farmland hundreds of feet below. I recognized the sensation of the angry air moving around me as I sailed down towards the ground rapidly, my descent dictated solely by the laws of physics.

Todd's face flashed through my mind and I was thrust back in time, caught in the nightmare that had plagued me since his death. I reached out blindly, limbs flailing as I fell towards the ground, and tried to grasp his phantom hand. Just as quickly, however, he was gone.

A sob caught in my throat and visceral rage and grief tangled together in my chest so tightly I couldn't breathe. The rage built and I began to see flecks of gray and red in the corners of my vision; my limbs trembled angrily as I stared down at the ground far below.

History seemed to repeat itself as I slammed into the ground below angrily – far earlier than would have seemed possible given my previous altitude – and shattered the world around me with the impressive spherical shield that had kept me safe from harm. Phantom Todd was nowhere to be seen.

But, then again, he hadn't survived the first time around.

Choking on sobs, I clutched my arms around my midsection and blinked rapidly when the world around me shifted suddenly to reveal the cold and clinical Danger Room. My body trembled from a mixture of fading adrenaline, terror, grief, and bitterness. For the sake of proving my worth and demonstrating my mutant ability to the imposing X-Men, I'd been laid bare. Exposed, I weakly found my feet and staggered upwards, arms still clutching my midsection.

The group of five trotted into the center of the Danger Room and I ignored the mechanical sound of the heavy doors sliding open – freedom was near. Reluctant and exhausted, I straightened my shoulders and stared at the group of them with fatigue clearly written across my features. The two women offered me understanding looks meant, no doubt, to be consoling. Hank looked quite perturbed, and Logan looked angry. Scott, as per usual, was impossible to read.

"The Danger Room brings out the best and the worst of us all, Eleanor," Ororo murmured quietly, her blue eyes alight with empathy. "We have all been faced with traumatic and trying events in our lives, most often regarding our mutations. Should you ever wish to talk…"

Silence reigned for several moments before Hank abruptly cleared his throat. "Yes, well, your abilities are simply extraordinary. I must say, I didn't expect the readings that I got while observing your training scenario. In spite of your obvious fatigue, you scored off of the charts in defensive capabilities. I wonder, though, how are you offensively with creating shields and-"

"Enough, Hank," Scott interrupted with a shake of his head. My arms trembled and I let my hands fall to my sides so that I could clench my fists. Body aching and mind racing, I offered the X-Men's leader a brief nod in thanks and began the slow walk out of the cavernous room. I'd nearly escaped when Scott called out after me. "I'll get you a copy of the group training schedule as well as advanced combat training sometime tomorrow. Good work."

I had nothing to say, at least not anything of merit. So, I nodded my head and slipped away with as much dignity as I could muster. Exposed, I felt vulnerable and small, wounded, as I found my way through the lower levels and up to my private room. There, I knew, I could let the scalding hot spray of the shower wash away the tears that threatened to fall.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Eight~**_

"I know you did some trainin' back when you were a student here." I lifted a brow in surprise but didn't comment as I circled Logan warily. "The Prof said you also did some martial arts trainin' out west on the ranch. What'd you study?"

He moved fluidly, dipping to the side more quickly than a man his size should be capable, and I winced as he struck out at me with a punch that didn't connect. The man, from everything I'd heard, was notorious for a terrible temper. But, thus far our first training session had been a far cry from what I'd originally expected.

"I tore my ACL when I was fifteen, just after my mutation manifested. Part of my rehab was Tai Chi. When I got here, Charles suggested I continue to practice and learn and recommended a place. Aikido. I studied it in Montana until – it's been almost two years," I added quickly with a frown.

He lifted a dark brow in obvious surprise and I smiled faintly, pleased to have taken him off guard. He grunted when I swept forward and twisted, nearly landing a kick to his ribs before he danced backwards. "Not bad. You're more fluid and graceful than I would've expected. No offense, darlin'."

Sweat beaded down my brow, between my breasts, and down my back. I was hot, sweaty, filthy from hitting the mats roughly at least a dozen times, and still somehow exhilarated. How long had it been, I wondered, since I'd felt the rush that practicing brought on? Too long.

"Any weapons training?"

I nodded and dodged when he attempted a half-hearted, and slow, roundhouse kick. I bounced back, landing lightly on the balls of my feet, and bounced a few times in excitement. "Yes and no. I never mastered anything, but I trained with a short staff. I found knife training to be too violent." He glanced over at the weapons rack on the far side of the training room and I half expected him to suggest I grab a weapon. Instead, he met my gaze and eyed me curiously. "I studied and practiced defense against multiple enemies," I admitted with a slight shrug.

"Really? Huh. Ain't common for a girl from Montana, is it? Think one of those cows was gonna trample ya?"

He abruptly rushed forward and grabbed my elbow and spun me around, causing me to tilt off balance almost immediately. I found my center of gravity and lowered my body slightly to compensate for my small stature and ducked out of his grasp quickly. "I started my study here, remember?" He danced back and paced gracefully, watching me curiously as I stretched out my limbs. "Let's just say that I found out the hard way that the big city is a lot different from rural Montana."

When Logan walked over to the weapons rack with a swagger in his step, I hesitated for a moment. It had been years since I'd held a training weapon in my hands, and I wasn't entirely sure that I fully remembered my training. It had been too long, and I felt uncomfortable when he grabbed a wooden short staff and tossed it towards me.

Still, I reached out with my right hand and caught the staff with ease, fingers snapping around the girth of the worn wood instantly. Recognition shuddered through me as if something snapped into place saying _this is what I've been missing_. I mindlessly twirled the staff, hands and arms moving in practiced synchronicity that caused the staff to blur before my eyes. I was definitely rounder, heavier, and a bit more awkward than I'd been the last time that I'd held a staff. But, I remembered my way around it.

Logan rushed me unexpectedly and I barely managed to bring my staff up to block his downward sweeping attack. His staff cracked against mine roughly, sending me stumbling back a few inches before my bare feet dug into the soft mats that littered the floor. Hazel eyes fiery with determination, he lifted his staff and swung it around viciously, nearly catching me in the side before I lunged to the opposite side to avoid his attack.

"You're fast and light on your feet." He'd noticed the latter already, so I didn't take his words as high praise. "You've got a real issue about personal space. Good. Keep anyone that ain't on your side out of your personal space. How are you with your shields?"

Before he could finish the question, I swung my own staff in an arc and shoved forward with the force of a psionic shield. I felt the pulse of the invisible shield as it cracked against his staff and sent him sprawling several feet back, and I felt the air shudder as he landed hard on his ass. "I'm rusty, but if there's one thing that Charles taught me it's that you can't stop practicing and using your mutation. I have good control," I added with a slight nod.

He rolled backwards and then forwards, similar to a turtle trapped on his back, and lumbered to his feet gracefully. Staff held at his side in a careful manner, he circled me cautiously and I eyed him curiously. "You're full of surprises, darling. I sure wasn't expecting you to pull that out of your bag of tricks. Can you shield your whole body?"

Logan pivoted sharply on his heel and spun the staff around like it was a baseball bat. I felt my muscles stiffen as I threw up a strong shield that oozed over my skin like warm honey. I shivered as the staff struck the shield and shattered, the sharp reverberations racing down my spine for several seconds following the impact.

We both eyed the remains of the staff, he with an incredulous expression, and me with one of surprise. "I think it's a good thing that I _can_ ," I finally offered quietly, "Otherwise you would have done some serious damage."

He grunted and cracked his neck loudly. "Shiho Mae."

I instantly responded, starting in _chudan kamae_ with my staff held at middle guard and my body facing Logan. He nodded his head slightly and I moved forward on my left foot and lifted the staff to _jodan kamae_ over my head. Mimicking me, he stepped forward with his left foot and centered the remains of his staff to _chudan kamae_. As I stepped forward with my right foot, he immediately stepped forward to the right on his right foot, _gedan uchi_ , and brushed his staff against my knee in a low level hit. I instantly maneuvered into a vertical cut to his midsection, _chudan giri_. He lifted his staff to _jodan kamae_ , over his head, and turned towards me. _Yokomen uchi_ – he hit me in the side of the head with his staff. I brought my staff down to _migi no waki_ , right side guard, and retreated three steps.

Silence reigned as we returned to starting positions, the whole dance having taken no more than a few tense seconds.

"You know Aikido?" I inquired, surprised. "I shouldn't be startled given your martial arts background, but I am. You don't strike me as the type to ever need a staff to protect you."

"Aikido is about unifying with life energy. It's a good practice," he grunted, but his features appeared troubled. I couldn't help but wonder if Logan had revealed more about himself than he'd intended, or if the training session had taken a turn he hadn't desired. "It makes sense that you would be concerned about your attacker. You're softhearted. Plus, your mutation is more or less makin' shields."

I conceded his point and nodded my head once in agreement. "I thought I'd forgotten the exercises, to be honest. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me that I once found myself in this." Exposed, I glanced down at my bare feet and then met his gaze. "Are we done for the day? I'm expecting a potential new student and his parents in a few hours. I'd like to make sure the guest room is prepared."

To my surprise, he abruptly nodded his head and spun around on his heel to pace back towards the weapons rack. There was no point in replacing the staff he'd shattered – it wasn't repairable and in fact would cause serious harm to any person that dared handle it. Given his healing ability, he likely wasn't concerned about splinters peppering his hands like most people would be.

"I'll let you know when we're training next. I want you to start doing your exercises, daily. I'll get you a good short staff."

I hadn't expected my first training session with Logan to be productive, nor had I expected to escape mostly unscathed. My body was achy, no doubt, but it was my mind that raced and wandered with every step I took out of the exercise room. I'd abandoned the staff on the floor to escape quickly, and during the long trek to my private quarters I wondered why I had stopped practicing something I'd so thoroughly enjoyed.

Life, I finally realized, hadn't ended when Todd had died. It was finally time to reclaim my future.

* * *

 **A/N:** I do not practice Aikido. What is included in this chapter is based on purely investigative research. Forgive me for any errors.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Nine~**_

Brian Conwell, as I'd expected, had loved everything about the Institute. He was thrilled by the sprawling grounds, the stables, the outdoor basketball and tennis courts, and the many rooms inside of the Institute. Given his wealthy upbringing, I'd half-feared that he would be a bit rude or standoffish to the other students, but he blended in very well and seemed to enjoy the company of others his age.

His parents, on the other hand, seemed troubled by their short visit to the Institute. Day two of their visit left me sitting across from them in Charles Xavier's masculine study, a notebook in my lap and my temples throbbing.

"I know that it's really a school for – for mutants," Camilla Conwell murmured as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But, it's so strange for me."

"I can understand your reservations, Mrs. Conwell. The world is still evolving and adapting to the newfound knowledge that individuals like your son exist. We, as humans, are often frightened of things that we do not quite understand. I encourage you to speak with your son about your own fears, as he may be able to give you a more personal insight to the world as he sees it."

As Charles spoke with the two parents about mutants, mutant rights, the school at large, and his hopes for peace and tranquility, my mind wandered. I found myself recalling, with vivid clarity, the single visit that Charles had made to my family's home in Montana not long after my mutation had manifested. Neither of my parents had been particularly surprised by the emergence of my mutation, but they'd both been baffled as to how to help. The neighbors, very few and far between, hadn't known and my parents forced me to drop out of school in order to keep things quiet.

Like a knight errant, Charles Xavier had shown up on our doorstep with a regal smile and a confidence that had taken my parents by storm. He'd explained that he'd founded a school for _people like me_ that would allow us to learn to safely use and harness our abilities. He'd worded it differently, of course, and assured my mother that once I had control over my abilities that no one would ever suspect a thing.

A lonely teenage girl who'd spent most of her time with the horses or talking to the animals on the farm, I'd been entranced with the idea of going clear across the country to study at a boarding school. Most importantly, there would be others. _Like me_.

"Brian _does_ seem very happy here, and the facilities are more than I could have ever imagined," Camilla reluctantly admitted, drawing me out of my own thoughts.

I tapped my pen against the notepad and jotted down a reminder to add the Conwells to the monthly newsletter subscription list. Until I'd taken the position as secretary and head recruitment officer, the newsletter had been a repeat for over two years. But, I was determined to send out a monthly newsletter about the school, its activities, and achievements amongst the student body.

"I believe that you are right, Mrs. Conwell. Brian is an exceptional young man with a justifiably difficult path in front of him. I have full confidence that we will be able to help him gain control of his abilities and that he will learn self-confidence and come to understand the importance of safety. As I previously stated, telekinetic abilities are not uncommon. In fact, it is one of the most common mutations," Charles added with a faint smile. "Rest assured that I have a great deal of experience in training telekinetics."

 _Jean_ , I thought with a frown. I spied a slight frown on Charles' face and realized I must have projected the single thought and quickly focused my attention on the parents of a newly enrolled student. "I've provided all the information you need regarding Brian's schedule, his instructors, visitation information, and you've also signed the documents allowing him access to a debit card where you'll deposit a small amount of allowance monthly. As requested, I've agreed to oversee his spending and ensure that he does not overdraw." It wasn't exactly a task I was comfortable with, but his parents were adamant that he needed someone to oversee his purchases. "Oh, I also noted that Brian inquired about sports. I'm happy to inform you that we have several intramural co-ed teams. Your son will be sure to find recreational activities that he enjoys."

The next hour passed slowly and I was grateful when Roger and Camilla Conwell finally excused themselves to spend the last of their remaining time at the Institute with their son. They would be heading to the airport first thing in the morning to return to the west coast. Brian would remain at the Institute, at least temporarily, until they were certain it was the best place for him to continue his education. I had no doubts that Brian would remain at the Institute indefinitely – it _was_ the perfect fit for him.

I offered Charles a polite goodbye when I left his office and leisurely walked through the halls to my own office. I passed a few students, greeted many by name, and found myself smiling when I sat down at my desk.

Since I had no pressing business to attend to, I didn't feel guilty playing music over the speakers of my computer, and even relaxed as I typed up my notes and made a to-do list for the following week. Humming, I slipped my feet out of my flats and tapped my bare feet against the carpeted floor as I opened my official school e-mail and began to weed out the trash.

I was taken by surprise when several pieces of paper entered my line of vision before they landed in a messy pile on my desk. They had been thrown down with such force that I jumped a bit in my seat and jerked my head up in alarm, startled to find Scott glaring down at me from where he stood on the other side of my desk.

"What in the hell is this?"

I blinked a few times and my foot tapped against the floor to the beat of the _CCR_ song playing before I found the sense of mind to mute the speakers. Partially recovered from his sudden appearance, but not by his tone, I tilted my head back slightly in order to stare up at his ruby red glasses. "I'm sorry?"

"You _should_ be."

Confusion was quickly replaced by irritation, and I tapped my fingers on the surface of the desk a few times before I snatched up the pieces of paper he'd abruptly thrown on my desk and scanned them quickly. Finding nothing of concern, I lifted a brow in query.

"Who gave you the right?"

"I'm not sure-"

"The Professor asked you to draft a copy of a press release for the memorial that's coming up in a few months. He didn't ask you to drag names through the mud. Just who do you think you are?"

I eyed the papers again before I shook my head, irritation bubbling as it began to morph into anger. "He asked me to draft a press release regarding The Blackout and the reminder that just as many mutants were lost as there were humans. I left out the pertinent details, blamed it on the government as requested, and spoke about peaceful relations between mutants and non-mutants. He said it was well written!"

He snatched the top page up and grasped it so tightly that it wrinkled in his hand. I watched him and tried to gauge his expression as he glared at the page in his hand. "And I quote: '…and I myself am troubled by the tragic loss caused by this horrific and unwarranted attack against mutants. A dear colleague and friend, Dr. Jean Grey, died during the worldwide attack that triggered first mutants and then humans. Dr. Jean Grey, a renowned humanitarian and advocate for mutant rights, will be remembered for her courage and integrity…'" He crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it at my desk angrily, where it bounced before it slipped over the edge of the desk to fall silently to the floor. "You have _no right_ to mention Jean in the newsletter. Her memory should not be used as political leverage, Eleanor."

The irritation, fully enraptured by anger, caused me to push back from my desk and rise to my feet. Toes pressed against the carpet, I glared up at the man that glared down at me and felt a profound urge to call him a number of unflattering names. I pushed the rage down and instead folded my arms over my chest. "Jean's memory is not being used as political leverage, at least not intentionally. I included her because her death touched Charles personally and he reflects on her loss daily. He asked me to make the press release personal, and given Jean's previous public image, I thought it important to remind the world that it lost a dear and precious person."

He opened his mouth and I lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "Furthermore, I included Jean's name because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, she simply dropped off of the map after she died during The Blackout. Charles never released a statement, her family refused to speak to the press, and _you_ said nothing. That's your prerogative, Scott, but Jean deserved more."

"So you want to dredge up her ghost, her memory, on the memorial of her death?"

Unbidden, I saw Todd's face as I reached for him in those last few moments, my desperate attempt to grasp his hand and save him as the world rushed up to meet us. I blinked away the haunting image and felt my hands tremble as I ran my right hand over my braid nervously. "If you don't like the press release, then I will draft another. But, I would appreciate it if you would be more cordial and respectful. I meant no disrespect. If you thought me capable of anything otherwise, even for a brief moment, I would kindly request you leave my office. I have things to do."

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched it tightly, no doubt struggling to keep his emotions bottled up. Part of me related perfectly to exactly how he felt, but the rest of me knew that he'd overreacted.

I stepped around the side of the desk and motioned to the open door with my open palm, face devoid of emotion. "I will write up another draft and e-mail it to you as soon as it's finished. If you approve, I will then pass it along to Charles for his approval. Is that acceptable?"

He appeared to glance down at my bare feet and I saw one brow quirk up over the rim of his glasses before he slowly nodded his head. As he reached the door, my hands had finally stopped trembling and I'd regained full rein of my emotions and body.

"Scott?" He glanced over his shoulder at me from the hallway, his shoulders straight and his face a mask of indifference. "Next time, try to remember that you weren't the only person that lost someone they loved that day."

Before he could reply, I threw my hand forward and caused a psionic shield to slam against the door, shutting it in his face. Scott Summers, I decided, hadn't changed at all.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Ten~**_

I eyed the scale dubiously before I exhaled and stepped up onto the platform hesitantly, eyes closed and gut twisting in anticipation. Dr. Cecilia Reyes murmured a few words under her breath and then told me she was done. I opened my eyes and watched her as she used an iPad expertly, tapping the screen furiously to enter whatever notes she'd decided to jot down.

"Well?"

She tapped the screen a few more times and finally lifted her head to meet my gaze. Her dark eyes were friendly and I briefly admired the brightly colored scarf she'd woven through her dreadlocks before I stared at her impatiently. "You're down twenty-nine pounds."

Incredulous, I stared at her for five full seconds before my jaw went slack. "You're kidding."

"I'm not." She sat the iPad down and motioned for me to slip my sneakers back onto my feet. As I bent to tie my shoes, she tapped her fingers on her thighs and congratulated me. "For many people, the first few pounds are often the easiest to shed. Our bodies naturally burn a certain number of calories daily based on our age, height, weight, and a few other metabolic factors. You've cut your calories and begun and grueling workout routine that's done you a great deal of justice."

"But it might get harder," I guessed as I stretched my arms over my head. I had realized that I'd lost weight when I'd discovered that none of my panties fit me any longer, but I hadn't realized just how much I'd lost in less than two months. Almost two months at the Xavier Institute and I'd lost almost thirty pounds and felt better than I had in years. "I noticed that I'm sleeping better and I've started doing yoga again."

"Really?" She quirked a brow in surprise and I felt my cheeks flush in response. How many people, I wondered, thought the same thing whenever they heard that an overweight woman participated and practiced yoga? "That's an excellent idea, Eleanor. In fact, I encourage it. It's a great form of relaxation and the practice will help you relax taut or overused muscles. I imagine that your workouts with Scott and Piotr leave you aching."

I shrugged and leaned back against the cool wall indifferently. "Peter does push me. I haven't had a session with Scott that wasn't X-Men related. He leaves it to Peter."

Cecilia seemed confused by my statement and glanced at her iPad briefly before she shook her head. "I must be confused, because I'm still getting weekly reports from both of them about your progress. Perhaps Scott is merely making his based on observations in the Danger Room."

"Maybe." But it seemed unlikely. Since our encounter the week before in my office, I'd spoken to Scott on only three occasions. The first had been at dinner when he'd asked me to pass him the bowl of carrots. The second had been when he'd remarked that the rain would result in the need to cancel the kickball game the students had planned. The third had been at breakfast the day before when he'd informed me some that skim free milk had dribbled down my chin. "I'm still struggling with the diet, but I think that my stamina is already improving."

"Based on what you've told me and the medical files you provided, I'm not at all surprised. Coffee?" I shook my head and watched her as she poured herself a large mug of coffee from the well-worn white coffeepot she kept on a small side table in her office. She mixed in a great deal of sugar and a bit of creamer before she walked back towards me and leaned a hip against an examining table. "You were always a very active woman. A year-plus of inactivity, or in your case, sedentary lifestyle, is very hard on the body. The extra weight you put on, forgive me for being blunt, slowed you down."

I couldn't imagine it ever being natural, or even comfortable, to have anyone discuss my weight or lifestyle or my body with me present. Todd had never made me doubt that he enjoyed my voluptuous body, though we were rarely intimate. Still, he had gone to great lengths to assure me that he didn't care what size jeans I wore so long as I was healthy and happy.

Cecilia Reyes, Charles Xavier, and the other instructors seemed to genuinely care about my wellbeing. The spiteful, childish part of me insisted that they were all jerks determined to shape me into their ideal image of an X-Man. After all, none of the others were even remotely out of shape or _large_.

"We, as mutants, are lucky in the fact that our immune systems, as well as our metabolisms, act at a higher tier than non-mutants. We are immune to a number of types of diseases and illnesses, and our bodies are often viewed as generally healthier." She sipped her coffee and peered over the rim of her mug, brown eyes narrowed in thought. "In fact," she lowered the mug and smiled slightly. " _That_ is why mutants are typically healthy and in comparable shape."

"So my genetics are actually making it easier to lose weight now that I've a mind to?"

She quirked her head to the side slightly and then nodded her head once, decisively. "Yes. Your family history indicates that many family members were on the heavier side. Obesity doesn't run on either your mother's side or your father's side, thankfully, but our genetics can encourage overweight tendencies. You've indicated that you had several failed weight loss attempts, all due to failed fanatical dieting. Now, however, you're on a path to wellness that is healthy and nutritionally appropriate for a woman of your age and activity level."

Which, in lamest terms, meant that my failed dieting attempts had probably resulting from the fact that I'd tried all of the fad diets. Once, during the first year of marriage to Todd, I successfully lost twenty pounds. I'd eaten only one meal per day and had cut out all sweets, all caffeine, and survived mostly on vegetables. Then one day, after an emotionally exhausting incident, I'd begun to binge. Within a week, I'd gained back the twenty pounds plus another two more. Over the years, I'd managed to remain steady until Todd had passed.

Then nothing but food had seemed to matter.

"Here. This is for you." I hesitated for a moment before I gently took the leather-bound notebook she offered me. "I think it's important that you keep track of your diet and exercise, but also your thoughts and opinions. Scott has ensured that the cooking staff prepare healthy meals for you, and Piotr ensures that you're exercising as needed. But, I want you to have a place to not only keep track of these things but to also track your own feelings and emotions."

"So it's a diary that also recounts, in vivid detail, how little food I'm allowed to have." She winced at my nonchalant tone but quickly nodded her head once in agreement. "I haven't kept a diary of any sorts since I was a teen, Cecilia."

"Think of as more a journal, then."

A student with a bloody nose, courtesy of a hormone-crazed fistfight, wandered in soon afterwards. I quickly said my farewells and hurried out of the Medical Lab and through the lower levels. Something caused me to take a short detour, and I found myself strolling into the empty and spacious staff kitchen shortly after leaving Cecilia's lab.

There was an undercurrent of excitement and determination that bubbled inside of me, a newfound lease on a life I hadn't ever expected. If someone were to have asked me, before or after Todd's death, if I would have ever pictured myself back at the Xavier Institute… I would have laughed and called them crazy. I certainly never would have considered it a possibility that I would one day train with the X-Men and work towards earning the right to wear one of the coveted uniforms.

Humming under my breath, I sat the journal down on the countertop and pulled open the subzero refrigerator door and peered inside curiously. As always, it appeared to be very well stocked with countless options. I hesitated for a moment before I found the meal the staff had left for me: a fresh green salad with a light dressing. Container in hand, I turned on my heel and frowned at the figure that stood in the doorway staring at me.

"All that grass – you're gonna turn into a rabbit."

My lips twitched and I pulled open a drawer, retrieved a fork, and sat the Tupperware container of salad down on the counter. "You've got a point, but there aren't many other options. According to Scott." The lid made a faint popping sound as I eased it open, and I sniffed the concoction briefly before I stirred the crisp leaves and vegetables with the fork. "Did you need something, Logan? I'm not in your way, am I?"

"Nah." His gait slow and lazy, he strolled into the kitchen and glanced around – either out of curiosity or habit I couldn't be certain – and propped a hip against the counter across from me and offered me his profile. He stared out the French doors for a long moment, brow furrowed in thought, and I speared greens and vegetables on my fork. "Been thinking about that first training session." We'd had two since, each exhausting and exhilarating. I'd walked away with a welt and a few bruises, but I'd enjoyed myself, surprisingly. "Those practices. Aikido." He paused and I twirled the fork in my hand lazily. "I knew what I was doing. I understood the language."

"I didn't know that you knew Japanese," I admitted before popping the bite of food into my mouth. I chewed slowly and studied his profile, curious and also a little hesitant. I hadn't really interacted personally with any of the instructors for more than a few minutes at a time, and I wasn't quite sure how to react around Logan when he wasn't trying to throw me across the room or bash my head in with a short staff. "You didn't know you knew Japanese."

He grunted in affirmation and I continued to eat my salad in silence. "I'm guessing you know the basics, yeah?" After a brief moment to consider, I nodded my head and continued to chew. "Yeah, well, I guess that makes sense. Ain't right to bring someone new in and not share some of the skeletons in the closet. My memories ain't right, ain't never been right. I don't know what happened or anything."

"So now you're trying to figure out how you know Japanese?" I licked some of the vinaigreete from the fork and pursed my lips in contemplation. "I know only the basics; what's required for practice. I understand the orders and directions, but I'm far from fluent."

"Been dreamin' in Japanese. Not sure how that's possible."

I furrowed my brow and spun around to face the sink in order to rinse the container, its lid, and the fork before I opened the dishwasher and stacked each neatly inside. The mundane action gave me a few moments to gather my thoughts. "Do you think that you've been there? To Japan?" I asked, and then pivoted on my heel to gauge his response.

He grimaced and jerkily shrugged one shoulder defiantly. I wondered how weird it had been for him to broach the topic to begin with. It was obvious that he wasn't comfortable talking about it; but it was equally obvious that he desperately needed someone to bounce ideas off of, and that someone appeared to be me.

"I could try to do some research. A friend from college," whom I hadn't spoken to since graduation, "Took a position in Osaka teaching English. I could send an email her way and see if she has any ideas."

I half expected him to grunt a few noncommittal and unwelcome words, but he turned his head to meet my gaze. "You'd do that?"

Shrugging, I picked up the leather journal and clutched it in one hand. "I'm certainly not guaranteeing results, but sending an e-mail is the least I could do. You might not think it, but your training sessions make me... They make me feel more like myself. I haven't felt like this in years."

Logan seemed to consider me, my words, my offer, and after a few moments finally nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Not sayin' I expect you to find anything. Chuck's been on the ball since I got here, trying to help me figure out my past. If he ain't gonna find nothing, seems unlikely that you could. But, it'd be nice if I had at least a few answers."

"Good. I'll send her an e-mail tonight and let you know as soon as I hear something." He spun gracefully on his heel and stalked primitively towards the french doors. I wondered if it was his feral nature that caused him to seek the great outdoors following the semi-personal conversation we'd just had, or if he wanted to sneak a cigar. From what I'd seen, the other instructors and Charles, especially, went out of their way to ensure that Logan didn't indulge in his habit indoors. "Hey, Logan?"

He paused, hand on the knob of the door, and peered over his shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for everything. Just in case I haven't said it before and you thought I was ungrateful. It - it means a lot to me."

Logan motioned with a two-finger wave and slipped outside without another word, leaving me to stare after him thoughtfully. So much had changed, I realized, that I wasn't even sure what remained the same.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Eleven~**_

"My, you're a gorgeous fella, aren't you? Oh, look at those intelligent eyes. I bet you know you're the king of the trot, don't you?" I crooned playfully as I ran the brush down the flank of the horse. A marvelous chestnut brown with a hint of silver around his hooves and a mane and tail composed of ebony, Zeus was quite the sight to behold. "Don't worry, boy, I've got a treat for you as soon as we're done with your brushing."

When I'd been a student at the Institute, the stables had housed only two rescued mares. With so few students, and even fewer friends, I'd spent a great deal of my time visiting the stables and caring for the horses. The caretaker at the time had encouraged me to spend as much time with the horses as I'd cared to, and I'd taken him at his word.

My first visit to the stables after my return to the Institute had been strained. In spite of the fact that I'd grown up on an active farm and later married into a family that operated a massive cattle and horse ranch, I'd felt lost for a few minutes as I stared up at the glorious examples of horseflesh. After Todd's death, I'd found myself cutting out all of my interests systematically and unintentionally. I hadn't ridden for the simple pleasure of it in so long that even brushing a horse had seemed foreign. At first.

Soothed by the horse's quiet sounds, I sat the brush down nearby and walked around to place my hands on either side of his long face. "Zeus, it's no wonder all of the mere mortals succumb to you. Why, I bet those ladies over there love you." The three mares nickered in their stalls and I found myself grinning. "Oh, look here. I've found a carrot in my back pocket." He nibbled on the carrot for a moment before he snatched it out of my hands and chewed happily. "There's a good boy," I murmured, stroking his face gently.

"You always did enjoy the stables."

Startled, I glanced over my shoulder and blinked once at Ororo as she walked towards me. Her boots clicked noisily on the hard floor surface and one of the mares stuck her head out of her stall and nickered noisily. Ororo stopped to offer her a brief scratch between her eyes before she continued towards me.

"Good evening, Eleanor. It's such a beautiful evening, is it not?" I nodded in agreement and lazily rubbed Zeus's head. "Are you considering a ride?"

I _had_ been, but the prospect suddenly seemed very daunting. "No, just visiting," I admitted, grimacing when she glanced down at my riding boots and lifted a dark brow curiously. "Well, I thought about it. But, I changed my mind."

"What a shame," she crooned, smiling up at Zeus before patting him delicately. "While many of the students enjoy visiting the stables and taking rides, these beautiful creatures do not get nearly the attention that they deserve. In fact, Gabriel encourages everyone to ride as often as they can. The horses need their exercise, you know."

Gabriel, a mutant whose appearance was morphed by his genetics, was the proud master of the stable. He oversaw cleaning, feeding, grooming, exercising, and all other aspects of taking care of the horses. When he'd learned of my fondness and experience with the horses, we'd struck up a long conversation during our first encounter. As with Hank, I'd been taken aback by his unruly appearance. Gabriel was a tall man covered head to, presumably, foot in thick, dark hair. His limbs were oversized, as were his hands and feet, and his face looked slightly twisted. But, his eyes were the blue of the sky back in Montana and his hesitant smile had made me grin.

We stood in silence for a bit before she cleared her throat. "I'm not sure if you remember, but there's a place nearby, _Case's_ , that we're known to frequent. Some of us were thinking about heading there this weekend. You've been back over two months now, Eleanor, and I don't think we've spent any real time together. Why is that?"

With no viable answer within reach, I shrugged my shoulders. "Our schedules are-"

"Not nearly as hectic as I'm sure you'd like to claim. I don't understand why you seem so reluctant to spend any time with us. You may not be an instructor, but you're a valuable member of our staff." I wondered if she thought the same thing about the cleaning staff or the cooking staff or even Gabriel or the three gardeners that showed up once a week, but didn't ask. "We weren't allowed the opportunity to spend much time together when we were students here. In fact, you left well before I finally felt safe and secure enough here to try to make friends."

She was right, though. I'd gone out of my way to avoid as many group meals as possible, choosing instead to take my meals privately either in my room or in my office. I still hadn't been active in any group training session, but I'd sat in and observed several. Though there was also a weekly staff meeting, I'd made excuses every time as to why I couldn't be present. Charles had confronted me about the latter several times, but hadn't pushed the matter.

"You're right," I murmured, eyeing Zeus thoughtfully. He was a horse, he didn't understand. But, he could probably sense the trepidation I felt as I considered Ororo's words carefully. "It's been hard, coming back here. The place still looks the same as it always did, but there are so many students. I didn't expect that," I admitted.

When I'd been a student, there'd never been more than a dozen or two of us studying at the Institute at the same time. Some, like Hank and Jean, had visited quite regularly while I'd been present but spent a great deal of their time elsewhere. Hank was away at university and visited to help the Professor as needed, and Jean spent a lot of her time back home with her parents once she'd gained better control of her abilities.

But, I'd never really formed good bonds with anyone. Warren had spent most of his free time with Scott or Emma, while neither Scott or Emma seemed to spare much attention for me at all. The other students that I'd met and spent time with were only at the Institute temporarily, staying for a few months before they went back to wherever home was, returning only if they needed further help with their abilities.

The student body at Xavier's numbered in the hundreds, and when I'd returned I'd found myself amazed by that fact. It had always been his goal, I knew, to enroll as many mutants as possible in his school. He'd wanted to help, to guide, to inspire. And he'd succeeded.

"I've had a difficult time with people since... since my - I lost my husband," I admitted, surprised by my own honesty. It still hurt, and it always would, to even think about it. But, talking about it... It didn't hurt quite as much any longer. Maybe, with time, the wounds would fully heal. "It's been hard for me to get out and socialize and do anything. I am sorry if I've seemed rude or spiteful or anything petty in regards to my behavior."

"Now you sound like you're addressing your constituents, Eleanor. Look, I am merely trying to say that you should give us the opportunity to get to know you before you decide that we either will not like you or you don't like us."

A simple enough request, but still one that made me a bit nervous. I'd expected to skate along in my new position for a while longer before I had to face the fact that I couldn't simply exist and not be part of the Institute.

"We are heading to _Case's_ this weekend and I hope you'll consider joining us. They have decent bar food and while the atmosphere is a little rough, the patrons are usually fairly friendly. We could have a few glasses of wine and catch up. I would like to know more about your life back in Montana," she prompted in a friendly and cautious manner.

How long had it been since I'd had a drink with a friend? Oh, I'd had plenty on my own after Todd's death, too many. Enough that I'd been scared I wouldn't stop and poured everything down the drain and instead satisfied myself with pints of ice cream, bakery bought cakes, and anything that would drown out the pain.

After a long moment of thought, I cleared my throat. "Sounds great. Count me in," I added before I could change my mind.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Shielded:** I never thought that I would be back here at the Institute for anything more than a brief visit. But, here I am. I'm back where it all began and my life has taken a number of unexpected twists and turns. It's here of all places where I'm determined to find myself again, find the woman that was lost long before that tragic day my late husband died. Eventual OC/Scott, lots of OC/X-Men interaction.

 **Disclaimer:** The X-Men and any other mentioned Marvel characters are not my property. I cannot claim ownership over them, and I ask forgiveness from their creators should they ever see how badly I've butchered their perfect creations. Eleanor Jenkins and a few other characters are my own, however, so please leave them alone.

 **Rating:** There are adult situations in this story, but they are much later on in the story. That being said, however, it would be safest to assume that this story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences since there is some language and a number of alcohol/drug references as well as suggestive material. Chapters containing sexually explicit material will have forewarnings, however, so if you're uncomfortable with those type scenes you'll be able to skip ahead with ease!

* * *

" _The softest hearts always have the toughest shields." – Claire Cross,_ _ **Double Trouble**_

 **Shielded**

 _ **~Chapter Twelve~**_

"This is your first team training exercise," Kitty observed with a quick nod. "I know it probably seems a little daunting, but we've been doing this together for a long time now. People come and go sometimes, as you're probably not surprised to hear. But, Scott's a good leader. He's a good judge of strengths and weaknesses and helps us get better - individually and as a group."

I flexed my hands inside of my gloves and tried not to shift my weight around awkwardly in spite of the discomfort I felt standing in the middle of the Danger Room with the well-trained X-Men. Similar to their active uniforms, the spandex and cotton blend uniforms were form-fitting and meant to offer protection from the elements while also providing uniformity that would allow everyone to recognize one another.

Everyone seemed comfortable and unaware of how ridiculous we all looked in bright yellow and blue matching uniforms. No one else seemed to mind that the uniforms were so form-fitting that the fabric clung to their skin. And no one else seemed bothered by the fact that the form-fitting material meant every lump, every bulge, every ounce of fat was visible.

But, I was far from comfortable.

"So have you decided on a code name?"

"Jubes! You can't just ask someone if they've come up with a code name. Not everyone thinks it's important." Kitty rolled her eyes at her companion and offered me a look meant to be consoling. "Just ignore Jubilee. She doesn't have a code name either and it drives her nuts. Nothing we come up with is good enough for her, though."

"You can't name perfection, chica." The dark-haired Asian-American laughed heartily and grinned mischievously at me. "So, you do the shield thing, right? Go with Human Shield!"

"That's the dumbest-"

" _You're_ the dumbest, Kitkat!" Jubilee countered shrilly. "Hey, at least I'm trying to help her out. I say we all write a couple suggestions down and toss them in a hat and draw the winner out."

Kitty rolled her eyes and nudged her friend in the side with a jab of her elbow. "Look, Eleanor - I hope Eleanor's okay since we're, like, training and all - we all have code names, except for Jubes and Rogue who is, just, ya know, Rogue. Some of them are nicknames we got, and others we picked at some point."

I remembered how excited Scott and Warren and Hank had been to start using their code names. Cyclops, Angel, and Beast. Warren's code name wasn't a surprise given the nature of his mutation, but I'd always thought that Hank's was a little derogatory. Scott's... It made sense in a strange sort of way.

When both Jubilee and Kitty suddenly quieted down, I found myself turning slightly to face where Scott parted the crowd to stand in the center of our gathered group. I shifted nervously and wondered why the full team wasn't present, but didn't voice my concerns.

"As you can all see, we're running with a small group tonight. This is on purpose. First of all, I'd like to officially welcome our resident go-to and new recruitment officer, Eleanor Jenkins. You're all acquainted with her, I've no doubt, and I hope that with time we'll all be able to work efficiently as a team. Questions?"

Jubilee took a step forward and raised her hand. "Uh, yeah. Does this mean she's totes an X-Man now?"

Silence filled the Danger Room for several tense moments before Scott inclined his head slightly. "Yes. From here on out, I expect everyone, especially those of you that are still students here at the Institute to treat her as an X-Man and show her the respect that comes with that position." He pinned Jubilee with a hard stare, no doubt insinuating that his comment was directed at her, and then cleared his throat. "Tonight is a trial exercise of sorts. Our circumstances are a bit unusual, hence the unusual team and the exercise we are going to complete."

The room shifted suddenly and I exhaled sharply when I felt high grass brushing against my calves. None of the others seemed at all perturbed by the rapid change, but I hadn't spent nearly enough time in the Danger Room, so it was a very new experience to me. Excited, I spun in a quick circle and found myself smiling for a brief moment before I realized that everyone stared at me.

"We will be breaking into two teams this evening. I pray that there never comes a day that any of us are forced to use our abilities against any of our friends, but this makes for good practice."

"Sweet!"

He tipped his head towards Jubilee and waited for her to stop bouncing in place before he continued with his explanation. "The first team, Red Team, will have the objective to retrieve the flag from the Blue team. The second team, obviously the Blue Team, will need to keep the Red Team from retrieving said flag from their group."

"So we're playing capture the flag?" Bobby Drake asked, incredulous. "Seriously, Cyclops?"

Kitty and Jubilee giggled a bit amongst themselves and I once against shifted my weight nervously. "Yes, Iceman." It was obvious that Scott Summers was gone; replaced instantly by his alter ego Cyclops. "I want to see whether people go on the offensive or defensive and how we work together in this type of environment. Eleanor?" I blinked in surprise when he used my name. "For the purpose of this exercise only, would you care to pick your first team member? I'll pick next."

It was no different from a grade school game of kickball, I realized. We were captains; charged with picking what we thought would be the best team. Apprehensive, I glanced around at the others and hesitated for a moment before I pointed at Hank. "Beast."

He grinned mischievously and I was transported back in time for a brief moment. Gone was the furry blue face; all I saw was young and smiling Hank as I'd once known him. "Excellent choice, if I do say so myself."

Cyclops didn't hesitate in pointing at Kitty and jerking his head. "Shadowcat."

And so it went until we were down to Jubilee and a young woman I barely knew, Paige Guthrie. I wasn't sure about which would be the best pick, so I went with my gut. "Husk," I called out and smiled with the young woman offered me a shy smile and jogged across the room to join my team.

Cyclops, Storm, Iceman, Shadowcat, and Jubilee made up the Red Team. Beast, Husk, Colossus, Pyro, and I made up the Blue Team.

"Here's your flag," Cyclops offered stoically. I glanced at the flag briefly before I took it from his grasp and folded it tightly. "We'll spread out and plan. In five minutes, the game begins."

While the Red Team immediately headed off in another direction, the Blue Team gathered around me and waited for instruction. I stared at the black flag with the white and yellow _X_ insignia on it for a few moments before I glanced up at Beast.

"This is a Cyclops test, isn't it?" His eyes glimmered with mirth and I shook my head. "Fine. They assume we're going to stay on the defensive, agreed? Not this time. I've got an idea." I laid out a rough plan of attack that would, I hoped, cause the Red Team to tap out and admit defeat. "And because they'll never suspect it, I'm not keeping the flag," I decided as I handed it off. "You take good care of this and don't let on that you have it."

Five minutes later, the Danger Room was a woods-type setting. Between the trees, the tall grass, the moonlight from an undefinable source, and the sounds of animals scurrying – it felt a little too real. I heard a rustle above and glanced up and tried to make sense of the hand motions that Beast used, but they weren't very familiar. Relying on my gut, I nodded my head and continued to trek carefully through the woods while he swung through the treetops gracefully.

It didn't take long to run into the first person from the opposing team. If Iceman was surprised by my appearance, he didn't show it. In fact, he reminded me a little too much of Cyclops when he lifted a hand and directed a patch of ice directly in front of me. "Hand over the flag, Eleanor."

I lifted my hands defensively and peered at him innocently. "I could. I could." I brought my hands down towards my face and then pushed them away from my body, palms out, and watched him tumble backwards several times. He acted rashly, attacking heavily by creating ice and attempting to ease out of the force field I shoved in his direction. But, he didn't stand a chance. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. There's only so much oxygen," I warned when I had him trapped inside of an invisible force field that gave him just enough room to spread his arms.

There was a sound overhead and I continued to watch Iceman as he struggled to break through the shield. Within a few seconds, his frustration caused it to appear as though he stood inside of a snow globe. Ice plastered the shield around him, but didn't escape.

When I felt the wind tickle the back of my neck, I turned on my heel and lifted a hand in warning as Storm arced towards the ground gracefully. With the force of the wind behind her, she slammed into a shield that I quickly shaped into the form of a slide so that she wouldn't be injured. Having taken her by surprise, she didn't react until her booted feet hit the ground and she flipped forward in a rough tumble.

Since it had worked on Iceman, I pushed out with my powers and quickly crafted a large force field around her form. Once she was captured inside, I sighed heavily and, with my mental connection to each shield still in place, let my hands fall to my sides.

The woods, dark save for the streams of moonlight from overhead, were suddenly encased in an orange glow. No doubt Pyro making an entrance.

As I turned to look for my teammates, I realized that Storm was curled up in a tight ball on the ground. I took a few steps towards her before the first crash of lightning slammed into the ground just in front of me and sent me sailing backwards. I'd instinctively shielded myself from the attack, but I was still winded and frightened when I managed to regain my feet. She thrashed inside of the shield and a blast of red arced through the night sky briefly before it focused on the side of the shield.

I felt rather than saw the flash of red light as it slammed against the side of the shield. With a groan, I realized that Cyclops had attacked the shield with one of his optic blasts. I spied him running between trees and towards where Storm was curled up on the ground and opened my mouth to taunt him when I saw the worried look on his face.

Then it all made sense.

I threw my hands down and the shields I'd created dissolved instantly, releasing Storm from her tiny prison. With a sob caught in my throat, I ran towards her as the weather grew fierce. Wind whipped at my braid and my uniform and hail pelted my personal shield and rain streaked down from the sky angrily.

"Ororo!" I skidded to a stop and dropped to my knees and hesitated for a moment before I placed a hand on her shoulder. Unexpectedly, pure energy rippled from her form and I was thrown up into the air several dozen feet before I began to fall. With a shriek caught in my throat, I caught myself midair by creating a shelf-like shield under my feet.

Shaken, I stared down at the others below as the Danger Room morphed back to the clinical and high tech room it had been before the scenario had started. Cyclops had reached Storm and he and Beast knelt on either side of her, comforting her as best as they could. Jubilee and Shadowcat were off to the side bickering and Husk looked quietly proud as she walked beside them with a knowing smile on her face.

My concentration broke and I dropped from the sky without warning, a shrill shriek escaping my lips moments before I slammed into something unforgivably hard. With the shock of pain racing down my spine and across my backside, I briefly saw spots at the corners of my vision before I came to the realization that I'd survived the fall from a dozen or more feet mostly unharmed. Tender and sore, yes, but nothing felt broken.

As I wheezed and tried to catch my breath, I become aware of the fact that the hard ground beneath me trembled. I half considered the possibility that there was an earthquake when I was suddenly shifted to the side and realized that I hadn't landed on the floor – I'd landed on Colossus.

He shifted out of his organic metal form and I found myself sitting sideways on his broad chest for exactly three seconds before I launched myself upwards and onto my feet so quickly I felt faint. Once the world had steadied and I no longer felt like I was going to fall over sideways, I scurried away from Colossus and tried not to meet his gaze.

"Ororo." I cursed under my breath as I skidded to a stop and dropped to my knees next to Beast. Her color was a little off, but her eyes were bright blue and the tears had mostly dried. "I am _so_ sorry. I have to be honest and say that I only skimmed the profiles I was given to study other than the basics. I should have known better. I should have known that Scott would-"

"I'm fine," she interrupted with a quick shake of her head. I realized I was trembling, either from fear or adrenaline I couldn't be sure, and hugged my arms around my midsection nervously. She met my gaze and my lips quivered at the thought of causing her so much mental and emotional pain. "I fear my issue with small or enclosed spaces is still one that I struggle with occasionally. I am sorry if I injured you during my panic."

"I'm fine. I shielded myself. Then I fell on Colossus," I blurted out, blushing when she threw back her head and laughed. "I'm really sorry. I can't believe how stupid I was."

"Hank, could you please help Ororo up to her room? I know you're fine, Ro, but please just let me have my way this time." It was obvious she didn't want to follow Scott's directives, but she reluctantly allowed Hank to scoop her up into his arms and stalk from the room with her in his grasp. Still kneeling on the floor, I found myself the focus of Scott's attention and squirmed. "Are you okay?"

Startled by the inquiry, I gruffly nodded my head and managed to rise unsteadily to my own feet. St. John and Paige appeared on either side of me and I glanced at the young woman briefly before I folded my arms under my breasts and rocked back on my heels.

"And not to fear, I am uninjured." His warm chuckle caused me to tremble again, but I managed a fake smile when Peter walked over to stand next to Scott. He rubbed his chest for a moment and then shook his head. He explained, very briefly, that he'd tried to catch me but had misjudged and merely acted as a rough landing pad. "I did not hurt you, did I?"

"I'm just amazed you didn't turn into a silver pancake," I blurted out sharply, cheeks heating when he lifted his brows in surprise. "I mean, I'm fine. I'm sorry for landing on you. Boy, I really messed up on my first group exercise."

Scott cleared his throat and I tried not to think about the beads of sweat I felt trickling down my brow and down the back of my neck and instead met his gaze as levelly as I could under the circumstance. "All things considered, you did fine. Just out of curiosity, did you give the flag to Hank or keep it to yourself?"

My lips twitched with a grin and I jerked my head to the side to indicate the young woman that stood next to me. "Paige here had it the whole time, actually. What? You didn't see that coming?"

He was quiet for several beats before he finally shook his head. "Unexpected. Well done. See the rest of you next week."

After he'd left the room, I turned to the others and found myself the object of study for several people. "What?"

"That's about as close to a compliment as you're going to get from him, chica. Way to go. Nice job on those shield things. Handy." Jubilee held up her hand and I glanced at it in confusion before I lifted my own and slapped her palm. "Welcome to the X-Men."

A shiver trickled down my spine with her words. It was official: I was considered one of the X-Men.


End file.
